


To Riverdale, with love

by elegantmoonchild



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Inspired by Love Actually, Mild Language, Minor Vulgarity, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 11:44:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17161388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantmoonchild/pseuds/elegantmoonchild
Summary: What is Christmas to the stranger next to you? Is it a time to sing joyous carols door to door in the freezing cold? Is it a time to curl up next to a fire with a cup of hot cocoa while surrounded by loved ones? Is it a time to bury beneath blankets to hide from the sorrow of what a Christmas without that special someone feels like?Follow along in this seasonal treat as nine stories weave in and out like holiday tinsel in this “Love Actually” inspired fanfic, including the romance and friendships of nine different pairings in Riverdale, the town where one might just find that love truly is all around.





	1. What Is Christmas?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big warm welcome to all of my "Riverdale" fans looking for a little holiday cheer! I have been working on this project for quite some time, and I'm pleased to finally present it to you all on this Christmas Day. 
> 
> I was inspired by "Love Actually," a film many of us enjoy not only this time of year, but really any day. It's a great story of interwoven tales of love, friendship, family. The hardships we face, the losses we endure, and the hope of what the season may bring. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it, and if you feel so inclined as to leave a kudo or a comment, I'll consider myself humbly blessed this holiday season!

**What Is Christmas?**

 

Christmas is a time for giving, a time for receiving – a time for gathering together amongst bundles of blankets and thick wool pajamas and strewn about wrapping paper. It’s a time for mothers to make hot chocolate for their young children as they shout and jump up and down at the prospect of new toys just inches away in various boxes and bags. It’s a time for two cups of coffee and a half-eaten breakfast, food set aside with the distraction of exchanging gifts excitedly with the person you love, the person you’ve had in your mind for weeks as you search for the perfect gift to show them how you feel.

Christmas is a time for missing those loved ones that have been lost and those that are distant. It’s a time for tears shed in private from faces afraid of raining on the parades of happy people. It’s a time for sorrow and isolation, for burying beneath covers and listening to the Christmas songs meant for those lonely masses that find no solitude in the holidays. It’s for celebrating the loss of love that could have been, the loss of waking up next to the person you love the most as they now share the bed with someone else.

Christmas is a time for young children to discover what magic is, be it from the chimney or the general spirit of the holiday in a class party or concert. It’s a time for artists to come alive, to sing their hearts out collectively in caroling or photograph love and bliss and joy in hazes of blue and white and gold. It’s a time for those buried beneath their work to put their papers down and imbibe in the office, cheering with their co-workers and cheap plastic cups filled with punch as they toast to another successful year of profit and workmanship.

But what Christmas truly is a time for is… simply… love. The love you possess for someone else. The love you possess for yourself. It’s the last ditch effort to find joy before the new year is upon you. It’s that moment when you take a chance under the mistletoe with that girl you’ve been eyeing for months. It’s that moment you decide to explore an impulsive connection with a stranger you walk by on the street. It’s that moment you put aside your reservations about society and strive to see the best qualities in the people you meet and the people you know.

Love can come in the form of a gift, wrapped in indelicate paper taped together with mismatched seams. Love can come in the form of a kiss, a simple gesture to warm the body after a day out in the snow. Love can come in the form of a song, words that can be said through bars and notes when they can’t be written down.

When I walk down the street, holding my cup of coffee as the day turns swiftly into dusk, I find myself realizing that love is all around me all the time. I see it in the faces of a new couple kissing. I see it in the face of a small child holding onto their mother’s hand. I see it in the embrace of an older couple, cherishing a Christmas that may be the end to all Christmases.

Though I have long considered myself one of those individuals huddled beneath the sorrow of the season, there is something to be said of the love that’s in the air during Christmas. Though I have felt untouched by it, I can still recognize it exists and it is present, and perhaps one day I’ll be able to reach out and touch it like the birth of a flake on my hand during the first snow storm of the winter season.

But I posit to all of you out there during this holiday season to take a moment – stop what you’re doing, whether it’s walking through your living room or bustling down the street – and really look around you. Can you find the love? Can you see it dazzling like the twinkle of the shops downtown, the colors and the sparkle and the light that highlights the happy faces of each person walking by? Can you feel it in the simple touch of a stranger as you hand them a purchased cup of coffee or a burning candle in evening mass?

I think, if you look hard enough, you’ll find love just when you need it. Just when the clock strikes midnight on December 25th. You’ll find that love truly is the real miracle of Christmas.


	2. Alice & FP

**Alice & FP**

 

Alice huffed as she lifted a box and stacked it on top of two other boxes nearest the wall of the garage, the chill of the cement floors rising in the air around her. She stood back and cocooned herself in the thick wool wrap she wore, examining her work before her.

It had been two months since the divorce, since she had packed up all of her belongings and moved to the small town of Riverdale in upstate New York, a stark contrast to the bustling streets of Albany where she had lived before. Slowly, she was beginning to put her life back in order, much like the boxes she organized and stacked, and the three bedroom home she purchased was becoming a home she alone could be proud of. No more coffee mug stains on her living room furniture. No more brown loafers strewn about her well swept floors.

Life without Hal was starting to feel more like a blessing than the curse it once felt like, the memory of walking in on him and his secretary stark naked and grunting like pigs across their bedroom floor beginning to fade with every boxed unpacked.

Luckily for Alice, the divorce had been swift and she had walked out of the whole situation nearly unscathed, her dignity intact as Hal gave her everything she demanded, tail shamefully tucked between his legs.

The two people most affected by their separation had been her twin grandchildren, still too young to understand why Grandpa was no longer coming up to Riverdale to spend Christmas with them. Their mother, Polly, had done her best to explain that Grandma’s presence alone was special, the incentive of extra gifts trying to send them off their scent, but kids were curious. Alice knew this holiday season would be rife with uncomfortable questions, and for that she could hate her ex-husband.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen this coming. There had been the clichéd late night office visits, the hushed telephone calls behind closed doors, and the awkward incident where Alice had mistakenly thought a necklace Hal had hidden in his underwear drawer had been for her. He continued to cook up excuses, biding his time until Alice walked out and left him, but she was a Smith first and foremost, and Smiths were stubborn. She waited until she had caught him in the act and he couldn’t deny her anything she demanded in their legal paperwork.

Alice crossed the garage door leading into the kitchen, making sure to close off the cold from the warmth of the house as she shut the door tight behind her. She shuffled along in her fluffy blue house shoes, the bottom hem of her grey sweatpants sweeping across the tops of her feet as she set the kettle on the stove for a cup of tea.

In that moment, she felt both an uneasy sense of loneliness mixed with the bliss of being solo, her home around her quiet and empty but totally her own. The walls were a soft robin’s egg blue, framed by stark white crown molding with several windows displayed for natural light. She settled at the thick wood dining room table, a hefty purchase made with her settlement money. She sifted through the stack of mail on its surface, fingering each letter as she assessed the sender’s information.

Bill. Bill. Junk mail. Christmas card. Christmas card. Bill.

In the back of the stack was a Christmas card from an old high school friend, Hermione Lodge and her husband Hiram. Alice gently ripped through the seam of the envelope, pulling the card out and examining the picture on the front. Hermione, dark-haired elegance draped in a silk violet gown, stood next to her husband in front of an enormous Christmas tree decked out in gold and silver baubles and lights. Below them stood a tall girl, the mirror image of the woman behind her, dressed in a black evening gown and a strand of classic iridescent pearls. _That must be their daughter Veronica,_ Alice thought, reading the inscription on the front of the card.

“With joy this Holiday season – Hiram, Hermione, and Veronica Lodge”

Alice smiled, instantly warmed by the happy memories of her high school days with Hermione. As the kettle behind her screeched, steam shooting out of its spout, Alice rose from her seat and hung the card on the front of her fridge, next to a colorful drawing of Santa done by a six year old and a photo of her oldest daughter Polly and her twin children beaming brightly while wearing colorful sweaters.

Alice poured the hot water over the peppermint tea bag dangling dryly inside her mug, inhaled the soft scent of mint as it rose in the air. To the left, hanging on the wall, a phone rang loudly. Alice sighed softly, steeping her tea bag as she reached for the phone and brought it to her ear.

“Cooper residence,” she answered.

“Hey Mom, how’s it going?”

Alice smiled, the sound of her youngest daughter’s voice through the phone filling her with joy. “Betty, dear, where are you? I thought you were going to be rolling into Riverdale sometime this morning?”

Through the receiver, Alice could hear the chaotic sounds of traffic in the background. “No, unfortunately I got held back at the office. Tomoko wanted that final draft for the Pendersons in before the Christmas edition went to print.” The sharp sound of something hard falling sang through the phone. “Shit – hold on, mom.”

Alice continued to steep her tea patiently as she waited for Betty to continue. She looked down at her watch, registering the time.

“Sorry about that. So yeah, I’m still in New York. I’m getting ready to leave though. My rental is here and ready to go. I just have to feed the cat and leave instructions for Mrs. Wyndham and I’ll be on the road to Riverdale!”

Alice smiled at the chipper sound of her daughter’s voice. “I’m so excited to see you, baby. Though now I have no one to volunteer with down at the soup kitchen.”

“You should just go without me, mom. I think it will be good for you to get out of the house for a bit, spread some of that festive Christmas spirit I know you have for those that need it most.”

Alice was hesitant. Though divorce hadn’t turned her into a hermit, the thought of being alone in public, ringless, for the first time in thirty years filled her with uncomfortable dread. “I don’t know…”

“Look, mom – you’ve been doing so well on your own. I am so proud of you and can’t wait to spend the holidays with you. But you need to get back out there for once. Go explore and meet new people. I worry about you here in New York.”

“Elizabeth, you have nothing to worry about. I’ve never needed my children to worry about me for any reason.”

“Yeah, but this is different, mom. I know the holidays can be hard the first year after a div—“

“Betty, like I told you, I am fine.” Alice sighed. “I made a commitment to the Sisters of Divine Charity. I’m not going to blow that off, I promise. Now just get here so we can sit by my new fireplace and share some hot cocoa.”

“That sounds lovely, mom. I should be there just after lunch. I promised Kevin I would see him this afternoon before the jubilee tonight, but I’ll make sure to stop by and see you first when I drop off my bags.” Betty’s voice dropped to a hushed whisper as she moved through what sounded like a packed crowd. “Did you get the late night provisions?”

Alice laughed, bringing her mug up for a sip of the hot tea. “You mean the Malbec and _Serendipity?_ I wouldn’t forget our Christmas tradition, no matter what. I’ve practically got the DVD queued up on the TV.”

“Good deal,” Betty replied and Alice could almost see the grin on her daughter’s face. “Okay, I’m about to get on the subway and lose reception. I’ll be on my way in about thirty minutes. See you soon, mom.”

“Drive safe, babe. I love you.”

“I love you too, mom.” The receiver clicked off and Alice hung the phone up on the wall.

It was already 9:30 am and she had about forty minutes to get dressed and head out the door. She had signed up a week ago at Polly’s church to help pass out holiday meals to the homeless on Christmas Eve. Not one to break a promise, Alice knew she had to keep her commitment, though there was still that part of her that feared how she might look – a graying divorcee with nothing better to do the day before Christmas than feed complete strangers.

She finished her tea and rushed to her bathroom, brushing back the wisps of her crisp blonde up-do with a comb and hair spray. Shrugging off her wrap, sleep shirt, and sweatpants, she opted for a pair of slim khaki dress pants and a lavender turtleneck, complete with tall dress boots in a soft muted tan color.

She wasn’t dressing to make an impression, but Alice Smith had learned during her years as Alice Cooper that any moment could turn into one requiring a proper impression, and she wouldn’t be caught off guard looking anything less than put together. _Even considering the circumstances_ , she thought. _Even if I wish I were stalking around in a bathrobe instead of pressed dress pants._

She made her way back toward the front door, tucking her wallet into her purse before retrieving a pair of white wool mittens from the front pocket, sliding them onto her slender fingers. She slipped a beige coat over her sweater, fastening the four bottom brown buttons into their slots. She was met with the first cold breeze of the morning, greeting it with a determined inhale, before she locked the front door behind her, carefully navigating the steps down to the sidewalk for the threat of ice. The last thing she needed was an injury on top of the heartache that still lingered in her chest.

The drive to the church was short, the soft crooning of “Silent Night” by Nat King Cole echoing from the speakers in her silver Toyota Highlander SUV. As she drifted slowly through Main Street, she peered from window to window at the shop fronts on both sides of the square, each decorated with their own versions of Winter Wonderland and festivity. The salon she had been getting her weekly blowouts done at, a little five chair parlor owned by Mandy Muggs, gleamed with red and gold lights, a few mannequin heads decked out in colorful wigs, surrounded by puffs of fake snow and glitter sitting in the shopfront window. The butcher shop where she’d buy choice cuts of beef was sprinkled with white decorative powder across its entry door, a decorated pig with a Santa hat perched on a display by the front window.

The spirit of the holidays filled Alice with a sense of acute nostalgia, her heart squeezing at the memories of her two daughters and son opening presents across their childhood years, their glee and chocolate-smeared faces tearing into bags of Christmas candy and boxes of toys eagerly wished for in the weeks leading up to the big day. She could practically feel Hal’s hand settle against the small of her back, remembering how they’d lean against the living room doorway with coffee fresh in their mugs, watching as their children hollered with delight as they devoured their gifts with grateful and anxious hands.

Her stomach clenched, the thought of Hal and his new absence threatening to bring tears to her eyes. She never thought, in all their years together raising children and building a home, that she’d be left to spend a holiday alone. She never expected a man like Hal to abandon her, abandon the home they had celebrated Christmas after Christmas in, the way he did.

_But, oh, how she could be fooled._

Alice shook the thought from her mind, willing herself to rid the anxiety that began to cling to her. She would not allow his departure to sour this holiday, a mantra she repeated to herself as she sat at a red light in the middle of town, her destination just a block away. She needed to maintain a cheery disposition for those less fortunate who she’d be serving hot meals to.

_There are people in far less desirable situations than you, Alice,_ she chided to herself. _Be grateful for the little things that you still have._

She pulled into the church parking lot, careful to find a spot not close to a patch of ice. As she walked from the concrete lot toward the large ornate wooden doors of the church, she spotted a man standing with his back pressed to the white paneled slats of the building’s exterior, a cigarette encased between two fingers. He was wearing dingy worn jeans and a thick flannel shirt buttoned to the collar, a black undershirt peeking out from the top, but not much more for warmth. She wondered if the cigarette he was smoking was meant to keep him from freezing.

She offered him a generic smile, her eyes falling upon his appearance once again, and she pulled the lapels of her jacket tighter around her chest. He seemed unfazed by the cold or the blandness of her expression, his blank appearance dusted with salt & pepper facial hair, his thin lips closed but for the opening meant for the stem of the cigarette. She noted, however, that he had a pair of kind brown eyes, watchful if not a bit vacant as they greeted her own.

She proceeded past him, clomping up the church steps in her boots, dusting off the snow from the heel before pulling the door of the building back for entry. Immediately, there was warmth and the smell of incense, an inviting mixture that beckoned her in.

A volunteer named Becky guided Alice toward the church kitchens, leading her past the sanctuary and a series of small classroom style rooms, each with their doors wide open and exposed. The kitchen itself was long and wide, industrial style ovens with three fridges stacked tall side by side. There were other volunteers clustered in the space, pulling items from the fridges and corner cabinets and gathering along the countertops where they began mixing and spreading dishes into large aluminum pans for baking.

Another volunteer was busy trading out one large can of green beans for another under the magnetic can opener, a second volunteer draining the juice before pouring the vegetables into a pan, a third spreading cream of mushroom soup and crispy dried onions over the top. A well-oiled machine, the kitchen was buzzing with activity as dishes were pulled from the ovens and placed along the lunch line, covered by a thin layer of Plexiglas that protected the food from the cold.

Alice admired the assembly line as she shed her large coat, setting her personal items down in a bin designated for the volunteers. Becky assigned her to scoop out the candied yams, leading her halfway down the lunch line and handing her a large black plastic spoon before disappearing off into the back of the kitchen.

Alice pasted on her best holiday smile, trying to hide her pity as she ladled out her first helping of bright orange yams smothered in toasted gooey marshmallows and chopped pecans. The woman on the other side of the serving line smiled back at her warmly, a genuine look of thanks, and proceeded down the line toward the awaiting volunteer with the pans of stuffing.

After a good hour of serving food, Alice began to feel the warmth of the season fill her spirit again, a worthy distraction from the sadness that had threatened to consume her during her car ride to the church. She reminded herself that she was doing some good this Christmas season, helping out those less fortunate while serving up food and a smile. She admired the thought that she, a person with means, was serving someone who probably lived without basic necessities for most of the year. A humbling thought, offering up her family time to treat someone else with care, Alice allowed her heart to fill with accomplishment and compassion, emptying it of the loneliness and sorrow she had been suffering for weeks.

Lost in the thought of her own good deeds, she was caught completely off guard when her eyes locked onto a pair of kind brown across the Plexiglas. Her hand already outstretched in habit with the ladle, she accidentally tipped over the yams, missing the man’s plate entirely and instead smothering his beat up work boots with mushy vegetable.

“Oh my goodness, I am so sorry,” a flustered Alice apologized. She set the ladle down and searched frantically down the serving line for a spare towel, feeling trapped as she realized there was an entire length in front of her barring her from going around and cleaning the man’s shoe herself.

The man chuckled, taking a napkin he had tucked under his paper plate and bending down to wipe the yam from his boot. When he stood erect again, his eyes met Alice’s, calm and collected and completely unexpected. “It’s okay. They needed a little color anyway.”

Alice bit her bottom lip and smiled, grateful for his composed reaction. She lifted the spoon carefully. “How about a fresh scoop of sweet potato as a peace offering?”

He slid his plate closer to her, holding it out for her to dump the side dish onto. “Gladly. I thank you kindly, miss. Merry Christmas.”

And with those final words, and a truly genuine smile that made the color rise on her cheeks, he passed down the line toward the next offered dish.

Alice had to admit, watching him walk away as she automatically resumed her serving without further thought, he was a handsome man. He had a sort of rugged appearance, even if a bit rough around the edges. He looked as if he hadn’t shaved in a few days, his flannel a bit dingy and probably smelling of the cigarette smoke and snow from outside, but she couldn’t ignore the kindness and sincerity in his eyes, in his smile.

_This man obviously has nothing,_ she thought to herself, _since he’s clearly here for a free hot meal._ Still, the fact that he maintained a positive aura, a genuineness that sparkled through the poverty, had Alice admiring him with respect and intrigue.

The line began to die down, the room filled with hungry guests now settled in their chairs instead of waiting in the food queue. One of the volunteers told those serving the hot dishes that they could use the downtime as an opportunity to eat their lunch, and Alice joined the small line of servers as they piled on helpings of the dishes they had been handing out onto their own plates.

Alice looked around the large dining room, carrying her plate of turkey, stuffing, and a dollop of cranberry sauce as she searched for a free seat. Her eyes scanned the room, the sickening feeling of loneliness beginning to return, when they landed on the table where the kind man was sitting. The seats around him were vacant, though he didn’t seem to mind, shoveling a generous bite of pumpkin pie into his mouth.

Alice inhaled deeply and began to step in his direction, each inch filling her with an odd fluttering of nerves she didn’t expect. _He’s just a stranger, Alice. No reason to get into such a tizzy about it._

She cleared her throat when she stopped a foot in front of the table, greeting his curious eyes with a hopeful smile. “Is this seat taken?”

The man shook his head, his mouth still filled with pie as he quickly chewed it up and swallowed it down. “Not at all. Please, have a seat.”

Alice set her plate on the table and slid into the generic plastic dining chair, its surface cold to the touch through her khaki dress pants. She laughed quietly to herself.

“It’s a bit drafty in here, isn’t it?”

“Still warmer than outside,” he replied, forking another bite of pie with his utensil. He offered her a wink. “But not much better.”

Alice smiled back at him before looking down at her own plate, tearing into her packet of plastic silverware before scooping up a bite of stuffing with a bit of brown gravy.

“So, are you and your family enjoying the holiday season this year?” Alice asked, instantly regretting it when she saw the stranger’s face drop.

“My family isn’t with me this Christmas, ma’am.”

“It’s Alice,” she replied. “And I’m sorry to hear that. This time of year can be so cruel for those who have lost loved ones.”

He took a beat, staring down at his plate before answering, “Yes, it can be. Especially if you’re the reason why they’re lost.”

Alice wasn’t sure what to say, if it were wise to keep pressing him for information or to change the subject completely. He seemed like he wanted to talk but it was difficult for him all the same. She decided she’d try and tread lightly, show him empathy instead.

“I know what you mean. I lost somebody close to me this year so this particular Christmas has been a bit hard for me.”

“A death in the family?”

“You could say it was a kind of death,” she answered, eating another bite from her plate. “My husband left me. My girls are trying not to pick sides, but I can see it’s hard for them to not be upset with their father.”

The man nodded. “Yeah, my son isn’t my biggest fan either. I didn’t leave their mother, but I may as well have.”

Alice considered him as he continued to eat his pie. “Can I ask what you did that was so horrible as to keep your family away at Christmas time?”

He sat in silence for a moment, moving a stray piece of pie crust absentmindedly around his plate with his fork. “I’m ashamed to say I haven’t always been this sober. And my kids, God bless them, they saw the worst of it.”

“We all make mistakes. We all do the best we can.”

“Yeah, but I let them down majorly. I made promises I couldn’t keep, lied over and over again. My son, my hard-headed son with a secret soft heart, he had enough sense and left, took my daughter with him. I don’t blame him. If I were him, I would have done the same.”

“Have you spoken to them recently?”

The man shook his head. “Not in a few years. I don’t think I’d know what to say if I saw them, and I’m sure they have no desire to see me. I’m a lost cause.”

“Don’t say that,” Alice chided. “It’s Christmas Eve and we’re in a church. Now’s the time for miracles.”

He smiled to himself, spearing the last bite of pie with his fork. “That’s good because I could really use a miracle about now.”

When he finished chewing, he held out a rough and calloused hand for her to take. “If we’re going to be talking about family and miracles, the least I can do is tell you my name. It’s FP.”

“Nice to meet you, FP,” she replied, taking his hand and shaking it warmly.

She had to admit how nice it felt to be in the company of somebody else who was in need of compassion this year. It staved off the loneliness, even if just for a bit. As FP stood, gathering up his plates to take to the trash, he offered her a friendly smile.

“Thank you for the lunch, Alice. And thank you for the conversation.”

“You’re welcome,” she smiled back. As he turned to walk away, she could hear herself call out his name one more time.

“FP, if you’re not busy tomorrow, I’d really love for you to join my girls and me for a real Christmas dinner, something a little better than what we have here. If you’d like.”

“That would be really nice, if you’re sure. I haven’t had a genuine home-cooked meal in a long time.” He smiled down at her again, the kind that had her heart squeezing happily in her chest. “Maybe I’ll get my Christmas miracle after all.”

 


	3. Kevin & Joaquin

**Kevin & Joaquin**

 

“You should have seen it, Betty. The scarf was the most hideous thing I have ever seen.”

Shuffling through the busy crowds of people at Sweetwater Mall, the premier shopping locale just outside the town of Riverdale, Kevin Keller inched his way closer and closer to the Sharper Image store, two bags of gifts already looped around one wrist. The other hand was occupied, pressing a cell phone to his ear as he chattered away, filling in his best friend on the other line all about the atrocities witnessed in some of the passing store fronts.

Christmas was hours away, and Kevin still somehow did not have his Christmas shopping done. He blamed some of it on Betty, the blonde blue-eyed beauty who he called friend for over twenty years. If she hadn’t told him she’d be coming to town two days before the big day, he’d have considered his shopping done for the year. But he’d do anything for his friend, including surfing through streams of stressed shoppers.

And as he peered down the way at the food court, he couldn’t help but think he wasn’t entirely put out by the whole thing.

“No, I definitely don’t think it would have suited your tastes or the eclectic tastes of your eccentric cousin. How is Sabrina, by the way? Clinging tight to that hunk of a boyfriend of hers, I’d hope. What’s his name again? Henry? Harry?”

He listened as Betty corrected him, muttering the name Harvey into the mouth piece from her end, but he barely heard it come through the ear part, too focused on the destination ahead to pay attention to what she was saying.

Just beyond the heads of the sea of shoppers sat the magnificent food court, a series of restaurants stacked side by side, their decorative neon lights and elaborate menus of all types of cuisine welcoming to any hungry shopper that felt the beckon of the smells and sights. There was the standard mall shops – McDonald’s, Panda Express, Auntie Anne’s Pretzels – all of them promising choices for the starved buyer.

However, it was the Great American Cookies stand that pulled his attention, his eyes scanning the stand-alone booth that sat as an island in the middle of the court, surrounded by a sea of chairs and tables, for a familiar head of shaggy black hair.

“Damn,” Kevin mumbled, forgetting for a moment that he was on the phone.

“He’s there, isn’t he?” He heard Betty say. He crinkled his brows inward.

“How did you know?”

“Kevin, I’m your best friend,” she replied on the other line, and he rolled his eyes, knowing she was right and knowing she couldn’t see him do it. “I know you best.”

“Fine, sure, whatever Betty. Yes, he’s there. Of course he’s there.”

“And now is the perfect time to go say hi.”

Kevin scoffed. “It’s the _worst_ time to go say hi. This place is a madhouse, Betty. I’m sure he’d be tired of talking to people after ten minutes, especially about cookies. It’s so damn loud in this food court.”

“Yes, but you’re not just any person, Kev. You’re cheerful and kind and funny. I’m sure you’d be a welcome change to all the stress and complaining he can probably hear all around that stand.”

“He’s probably busy,” Kevin offered as an excuse, eyeing the empty line where no one was standing in queue.

“How? Who buys cookies on Christmas Eve? Aren’t people usually baking their own for the holidays?”

 _Drats,_ he thought to himself. Of course she’d be able to see through his ruse.

“Just go talk to him, Kev. You’re probably the man he’s been dreaming of to rescue him from the Christmas madness.”

“I don’t even know if he’s gay.” His memory replayed the image of a man with searing blue eyes, chiseled cheekbones, and a pearl white smile, black bangs hanging to the side in a coifed manner. “Maybe he’s just a little more feminine than most, no big deal. You can be feminine in appearance and still straight.”

“This is true,” Betty replied quickly, “but you’ll never know what his deal is if you don’t go and talk to him. That’s the very least you can do if you’re not going to come right out and ask him on a date.”

Kevin contemplated her advice as he focused on the cookie stand, now a yard or two away from where he stood. Appearing behind a glass display case, a young guy who looked to be about Kevin’s age set a baking tray on top of the long counter before he reached down to close the case. He carried the tray back to some unknown spot before crossing behind the register where he settled.

Even from a distance, Kevin could make out his distinguished features. The man had jet black hair slicked back, reaching beyond the crown of his head to touch the series of flipped up curls and waves that decorated the ends. His ears were small, poking out from the sea of black, a trait Kevin always thought was adorable. His nose was a bit flattened at the bridge and rounded at the tip, billed out just above a pair of pink lips that looked perfectly thick enough for kissing.

But Kevin’s favorite part of his appearance was not the tempting mouth or the bright white smile it contained, but the gem blue eyes that Kevin imagined could see through souls. They were vivid and beautiful, shocking and mesmerizing. He didn’t know how he’d be able to get a word out with those pair of eyes staring into him so severely.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Betty. What would I even say?”

“How about ‘Hey there, my name’s Kevin. What’s yours? Gee, those are some nice cookies you’ve got there.’”

“O-M-G Betty, I can’t say that! I’d sound ridiculous.”

Betty laughed on the other end. “Well! At least it’s something. It’s more than you’re saying now. You’re just walking around the food court, talking into your phone while hanging around the cookie stand without ever buying a cookie.”

“That’s not true. There was that one time I actually went up and bought a cookie cup.”

“Yes, but you looked down at your cell phone the whole time. I talked to him more than you did.”

“But you’re just so much better of a public speaker, Betty, and you could make friends with a paper bag.”

“It’s no good trying to butter me up with flattery, bud. Come on, now. It’s Christmas. If there was ever a time for miracles to happen, it would be now. Plus, maybe he needs a little cheering up. What can it hurt, Kev? Just go say hi.”

 _It’ll hurt me,_ he thought, _if I find out the love of my life isn’t gay. Or worse, isn’t interested._

The thought of rejection carried down to his toes, filling his stomach with butterflies and fear. But Betty was right – it was Christmas and there was no better time for taking chances and telling someone you care than the holidays.

“Okay, fine. I’ll do it.”

On the other line, Betty cheered before muttering an “oh shit, sorry!”

“What was that?”

“I screamed into someone’s ear on accident. I’m on my way back to the train station to head back home to pick up my car. I can’t wait to see you later! Who knows…. Maybe you’ll have a date by then.”

“Fat chance,” he replied. “But I guess it’s worth a shot.”

“That’s the spirit! Okay, Kev, I’ve got to go. Text me what happens though! I want all the details, and you better mutter more than a simple ‘hello’ or I swear I’m going to take back your Christmas gift.”

“Fine, fine! Message received. I’ll see you when you get into town. And be safe, Betty. It’s crazy out there this year.”

They both hung up the phone and Kevin was left without the crutch of a friend, his feet stopping just a few feet shy of the cash register. The man was looking at him, a generic smile painted on his face.

_Oh shit._

Kevin smiled back, an odd pressing of the lips turned up, an over exaggerated head nod to go with it, as he made his way toward the cookie display. He had to make himself look like he had purpose while he figured out what he was going to say.

As his eyes scanned the chocolate chip, his thoughts as far away from macadamia as they possibly could be, he panicked trying to figure out what to say to this guy that would be more fruitful than a simple hello. If he was going to do this, _really do this_ , he had to have a plan and had to make it worth it.

After all, if the guy rejected him or if his crush crumbled to pieces, at least he’d know for good and never have to come back to that cookie stand ever again.

 _Might save me a few pounds,_ Kevin thought to himself with a chuckle. Instantly, he regretted it, his little laugh catching the attention of the man behind the counter.

“Is there something I can help you with?”

_Yes._

“I’m just browsing, thanks.”

The guy nodded and stepped away from behind the display, his attention returning to the register as he became preoccupied with wiping down the buttons of the machine with a rag.

_Come on, Kevin. You can do this._

With a subtle sigh, Kevin shook off his doubts. He cleared his throat and looked away from the cookies and up at the man.

“So, what kind of cookie would you recommend?”

The guy looked back toward Kevin, and he felt his breath catch at the penetrating stare of those blue eyes.

“That depends.” He stepped back over to the cookie display, looking over at Kevin with a curious expression. “Are you shopping for something to eat now or are you picking up something for the holidays?”

“For now,” Kevin replied, “though I suppose it might not be a bad idea to pick some up for the family. My step-sister is in town for the night and it would be nice to show up with some professionally made cookies. Much better than the ones I made myself last year, I’m sure.”

The guy laughed and Kevin felt his confidence rise. _See, you’re doing just fine, Keller. Keep going._

“So you’re not a baker, I take it?” The guy asked, his mouth opening to reveal a friendly and playful smile.

“Not really,” Kevin replied. “I like it leave it up to the professionals. Do you bake the cookies here?”

The guy shrugged his shoulders. “Yes, but to be honest they’re pre-packaged. I don’t use my own recipe or anything.”

“But you like to bake?”

“Definitely. It’s one of my favorite things to do. I actually make this really good cookie recipe, chock-filled with rich dark chocolate chips and crushed walnuts.” His cheeks turned one shade pinker, a facet Kevin found interesting and cute. Suddenly, the guy looked back down at the cookies, pointing through the glass toward the large cookie cutout of a Christmas tree on the bottom shelf, green frosting piped around the edges in big puffs. “Anyway, you could get something like that. Everyone loves a cookie cake, and I can write out any message you want on it.”

“Something like ‘Ho Ho Ho,’” Kevin chuckled, earning another smile from the cookie clerk. “Somehow I doubt my dad would think it’s funny. Maybe just ‘Merry Christmas’? That seems innocent enough for a family dessert.”

“That I can do,” the guy replied, opening up the case and bending down to grab the cake from the shelf. When he stood, he looked back over the counter at Kevin. “There was something else you wanted for today, right?”

_You._

“Actually, I think this will be good, thank you.” Kevin looked down at his shoes, swallowing before quickly vomiting out the words, “I’m Kevin, by the way. Kevin Keller. What’s your name?”

The man set the cake down on the icing station, looking back up at Kevin before gesturing to his name badge. “It’s Joaquin.”

“Cool name,” Kevin tried to reply casually. “Nice to meet you, Joaquin. Kind of like Joaquin Phoenix without that lip thing.”

Joaquin chuckled, reaching for the tube of red icing. “God, I hope I look better than that guy. I mean, he’s cute and all, but that cleft gives me the willies.”

 _Interesting,_ Kevin thought. At least he was getting somewhere.

“Yeah, he’s cute, but not nearly as attractive as Jake Gyllenhaal. I was digging that whole ‘Donnie Darko’ thing for a while.”

Joaquin peeked over at him from the corner of his eye, his cheeks reddening a bit, and Kevin realized after he spoke that Joaquin carried a bit of that Donnie Darko vibe himself in his appearance.

“I wouldn’t have thought a preppy like you would be into someone like that.”

“Like what?” _Like a dude?_

Joaquin began to spiral out lettering with the frosting tube, his eyes focused on the task while he explained “someone with an _edge_. You just seem so… conservative? I don’t know. You always walk around in those sweater sets.”

Kevin wrinkled his brows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Joaquin shrugged, finishing the final letter with a flourish before setting down the icing tube. “I’ve seen you around. You come to this mall quite a bit. You’re kind of hard to miss, always talking loudly on your cell phone or with that pretty blonde girl.”

 _Pretty blonde girl._ Kevin felt a twinge of jealousy before the unsettled sense of fear flopped into his stomach. _He must have heard my phone conversation with Betty. Shit, shit shit._

That meant he would have heard Kevin debate whether or not to talk to him and there would have been no denying who it was about, all the mentions of cookies and feminine features included. The humiliation slammed into him.

“I didn’t realize I was so noticeable.”

“Oh, you’re definitely noticeable.”

This time, Kevin felt his own cheeks turn beet red, his skin warm and flushed. “So, uh, what are your plans for Christmas this year? Have you been a good boy?”

Kevin laughed to himself nervously, thinking _what the fuck are you even saying???_

Joaquin chuckled, carrying the cookie cake over to the boxing station, a carton open and ready for packaging. “I guess you could say that, though maybe not _that_ good.”

He taped the top of the box to the bottom and carried it over to the register. “As for my plans, I’m not sure yet. Probably hang out with a few of my friends. My grandmother doesn’t cook very well so we usually go to a senior center for Christmas buffet. What about you?”

Kevin pulled out his wallet, getting ready to pay for the cake. “Well, there will be dinner tonight with my dad and his wife, plus my step-sister is in town, like I said. We’re going to the Jubilee tonight. She’s planning on performing so I’m kind of obligated. And then I guess we’ll eat this cookie cake. Not sure about the actual day though.”

“Not going to get together in the morning and open up presents?”

“No, we usually just meet up sometime in the afternoon whenever everyone is free. My dad’s a cop, so his schedule varies depending on town need.”

“Got it. Did you ask for anything crazy this year for Christmas? Maybe another _wacky_ Christmas sweater set?” Joaquin laughed with playful mocking.

Kevin grinned at his teasing. “No, I don’t like when other people buy clothes for me. I’m very picky, as you can see. Hmm, I don’t think I asked for anything too unusual. Maybe some gift cards.”

“Come on, preppy – where’s the fun in gift cards?”

Kevin laughed. “I don’t know! What did you want for Christmas? What was on your list?”

Joaquin looked over across the register at him, his face still holding the same smile but appearing more serious, the air between them charging up with some sort of chemical tension Kevin couldn’t explain, nor did he feel was familiar.

“I don’t really know. I don’t think what I want could be bought.”

Kevin cleared the lump from his throat, looking down suddenly at his wallet. “I guess I better get going. I’ve got a lot to do before the Jubilee begins.”

“Sure,” Joaquin replied with a nod. He pressed a button on the register, bringing up the digitized price of the cookie cake on the little screen facing Kevin. “That’ll be 18.99. Are you sure you don’t want anything else?”

Kevin shook his head, fishing out his credit card from the slot in his wallet. “I think this is good, thank you.”

He handed Joaquin the card, their fingers briefly brushing, and he wished more than anything he could spend the entire day at that stand, getting to know the now less-mysterious Joaquin. He was worried eventually he’d stick his foot in his mouth, though, and say something really stupid. He had done enough. He got a name, even got a little more on the “is he or isn’t he” sexuality enigma. It was enough to go on until he mustered up enough courage to speak to him again.

 _Yeah, like another six months,_ Kevin thought to himself. He had been crushing on Joaquin for over a year. It had taken him this long just to introduce himself, and even though progress was made and he had a bit of an in, he still didn’t think he’d ever be brave enough to ask him on date.

_One day at a time, Keller. One day at a time._

He took the box and his credit card from Joaquin and waved with his free hand. “It was nice to meet you, Joaquin. Have a Merry Christmas!”

“You too,” Joaquin replied.

Kevin quickly stalked off, his tennis shoes squeaking against the tiled floor of the food court, as he made a mad dash for the mall exit.

He didn’t even hear his name called from behind him, coming from the direction of the food court. Standing in front of the cookie stand was a bewildered looking Joaquin, clutching the brown leather wallet belong to Kevin in his hands.

 

 


	4. Cheryl & Toni

**Cheryl & Toni**

 

_“Flight 211 to Miami has been delayed indefinitely due to extreme weather. Please speak to the attendant at the gate for further assistance at this time. Thank you and we apologize for any inconvenience.”_

“Fuck,” Cheryl muttered, slowing the speed of her footsteps as she hurried toward her gate. There was no reason to rush now that her flight wasn’t leaving on time. It just figured that in her effort to escape the cold of New York for the warmer climate of Florida, she would get trapped behind because of a snow storm.

She stood in the middle of the walkway, scouting out a location to settle her things and plant while she waited for the weather to subside. The toe of her red heel clicked impatiently on the hard tile floor, a nervous tick she fell into when she felt anxious. There were a row of shops nearby, cardboard magazine displays and bags of assorted snacks in the wide windows, the bright lights inviting, and she considered losing herself behind the glossy pages of an Italian Vogue for the next couple of hours. There was also the possibility of plugging into the airport’s Wi-Fi and going through the countless work emails no doubt accumulating in her inbox at this very moment.

_No, Cheryl, this is a vacation and when you’re on vacation, your time is your own._

The emails would have to wait, then. Her eyes fell upon a five-stool bar attended by a single person wearing a silk vest and long-sleeved white button down. The bottles behind him were covered in top shelf labels and immediately she thought about the delicious slide of Grey Goose vodka down her thirsty throat. Alcohol was certainly one way to pass the time.

She wheeled her luggage toward the bar, locking the handle down and wrapping her jacket over the back of the chair as she hopped gracefully onto one of the cushioned bar stool seats. She brushed her long fiery red hair back behind her shoulders.

“What can I get for you, miss?”

“Grey Goose martini, please. Two olives.” She tapped her manicured nails across the hard wood surface of the bar. There was a man sitting on the far end, obviously on a business trip as he was decked out in a well-cut navy blue suit.

_Upper middle class. Most likely stocks. Probably horrible with conversation._

She would just have to entertain herself as she drank. Her hand inched into the pocket of her chocolate brown peacoat, searching for her Blackberry. She pulled the device out of and ran her finger over the trackball, bringing the home screen to life. She flicked her way over to the internet browser app and pulled up the website for the NY Times.

“Here you go, miss.” The bartender, a handsome 20-something named Todd from his tag, set the martini glass on a napkin in front of her.

“Thank you,” she muttered, reaching for the glass and bringing it to her lips, leaving behind a thick layer of red lipstick along the rim. She was just getting to the editorial section of the website when another woman slid into the stool next to her, setting her mauve snap clutch on the counter top.

The first emotion Cheryl felt was jealousy. This woman was absolutely gorgeous, almost model-like features with long strands of brunette hair dusted with pink, very chic and very hip. Her skin was rich and tan like smooth caramel and her eyes were brown like melted chocolate. She wore a loose maroon top that looked butter soft and a pair of well-fitted black dress pants, complete with a pair of lace-up black boots. She looked elegant and exotic and her voice was like velvet as she called out her drink order to the bartender.

“Glenfiddich, neat, two fingers please.”

The woman glanced her way, shot Cheryl a small grin. “Hello there.”

“Hi,” Cheryl responded, momentarily mesmerized by the flash of white from the woman’s smile.

“Snowed in as well?”

Cheryl nodded, fingering the stem of her martini glass. “Unfortunately.”

“You’re telling me.” The woman reached out for the glass set in front of her and took a sip. “I could be halfway to being naked on a beach in Tuscany right now. Instead, I’m spending my time daydreaming about the ocean while drinking overpriced whiskey in an airport bar.”

Cheryl sipped from her own drink, the thought of this random woman nude on a beach filling her mind with surprisingly sinful thoughts.

“Tuscany’s nice this time of year, but Miami is so much closer and wilder. Nothing says Christmas like a margarita on the beach while some amazingly attractive man with a Cuban accent offers to rub sunscreen oil on your back.”

“Cabana boy fantasies, huh? Surprising. I would have taken you for a more ‘delivery boy in the office’ kind of gal.”

Cheryl’s eyebrow shot up quizzically. “And what would give you that impression?”

The woman gestured to Cheryl’s phone. “Your hand has been glued to your Blackberry, for one. Plus, you have that whole ‘shoulder pad, power woman’ vibe about you. Top it off with the very cliché martini and you’ve practically written yourself into the role.”

At first, Cheryl felt a bit offended. This complete stranger was sitting here making assumptions about her personality and her appearance based off of a few minutes sitting next to her. But then Cheryl was fascinated, impressed that this woman seem to be right on the mark. She held out a hand for her to take.

“Cheryl.”

The woman looked at the offered hand and shook it gently. “Toni. Care if I buy you another drink?”

Cheryl shook her head. “That would be lovely, thank you.” She turned to face the bartender. “Another Grey Goose martini with two olives, please.”

“Grey Goose, huh? You’re literally a character from ‘Sex and the City.’”

Cheryl scoffed playfully. “You act like that’s an insult.”

“It’s not. Every one of those women are absolutely mouthwatering.”

Cheryl blushed softly and brought her first drink to her lips, finishing it in a single gulp. She pulled the toothpick of olives out of the glass and put it to her lips, sliding one of the olives into her mouth and chewing it.

“So you were planning to fly out to Tuscany this Christmas Eve? By yourself?”

Toni nodded, swirling the amber liquid around inside her glass. “Yep. My ex-girlfriend Trula and I bought the tickets back in May. It was supposed to be an anniversary trip of sorts.”

She snorted heavily. “You can see that didn’t fucking happen.”

Cheryl pursed her lips, not quite sure what to say. “I’m sorry that happened.”

Toni shrugged. “I’m better off. She’s stuck spending the holidays with some angry broad in Hoboken and I get to suntan on the beach with as many alcoholic beverages as I choose.” She lifted her glass to no one. “Cheers.”

In a show of solidarity, Cheryl took a sip of her glass, watched Toni tip back the remainder of her drink. She tapped on the bar top and Todd poured her another.

“So what about you? Riding solo this Christmas too?”

Cheryl nodded, fiddling with the stem of her glass between her fingers. “Yep. The only sibling I care about is overseas and as much as I love his kids, I needed a break from the noise this year.”

“No kids of your own then?”

“Hell no – it’s not that I don’t like kids or the idea of kids, but I have no desire to become a mother in the slightest.”

“I can relate. Not a single sibling to trifle with, and no nieces, nephews, or children of my own to eat up charges on my credit card with gifts for every damn occasion. My life is my own, and for the moment I am well and content with that.”

Cheryl nodded, her lips pursed with interest. “Exactly. I’m glad someone else gets it.”

“I know!” Toni exclaimed, reaching for her fresh drink and swirling it absentmindedly. “Most other women think I’m nuts not wanting kids, like I’ve betrayed my gender or something by keeping my womb empty of potential spawn. For being the more whimsical sex, we sure do make a lot of demands on our sisters.”

“Here, here,” Cheryl added, tapping Toni’s glass daintily with her own. “Cheers to us, dark womb and all!”

Toni laughed, licking her bottom lip as she watched Cheryl sip from her martini. The redhead was enticing in her own right, attractive and confident and bold in more than just color, but it was their similar values that really drove it home for Toni.

The two women spent the next few hours exchanging stories, bitching about relatives and ex-relationships, laughter darting from one pair of lips to the next as the time passed, the drinks continuing to flow courtesy of Todd the bartender. When Todd became Tina, the sign of one shift turning into another, Cheryl finally took the moment to glance down at the thin banded watch on her left wrist.

“Holy shit, it’s already ten o’clock and I am plastered. I can’t believe we’ve been sitting at this bar for four hours.” She sighed, the alcohol blowing off her breath heavily. “I can’t believe I’m not sitting on a beach right now.”

“There are definitely worse places you could be right now, though. Admit it,” Toni replied, swirling her glass again before taking a generous sip.

Cheryl eyed her with a curious expression, the vodka mingling with her inhibitions, urging her to let go. She could feel the switch from friendly to flirty get pulled in her mind, and she suddenly realized she had been subconsciously gnawing on her bottom lip the entire time she had been staring at Toni.

The brunette could feel Cheryl’s gaze, shifting her eyes to watch the redhead carefully, her eyebrows knitting forward in confusion. “What?”

“You couldn’t ask for better company, either.”

The air between them shifted, the airport bar atmosphere growing thick with sexual tension as Toni’s fingers fell from her settled glass to slide over to Cheryl’s, her soft palm caressing the other with suggestion.

“It may not be Miami or Tuscany, but I bet we could find some excitement in this airport. You down, red?”

With her free hand, Cheryl picked up her martini glass and threw back the cocktail, still somehow managing to seem sophisticated. She set the glass back down and reached down for her peacoat, fingers landing on a thick burgundy wallet. She placed it onto the counter, her hand slipping from Toni’s as she fished into her pocketbook for spare cash. With flourish, she smashed two one hundred dollar bills down onto the counter.

“Take me somewhere exciting, Toni.”

The two girls giggled as they gathered their belongings, drunkenly bumping into each other as they made their way for the nearest bathroom, their heels collectively clicking on the hard tile of the airport walkway.

Fortunately, the long restroom space was fairly vacant, only one woman left wiping her wet hands on a paper towel. She eyed the two ladies as they stumbled toward the far end of the bathroom, their suitcases in tow as they pawed each other without care. Just as they thrust themselves into the last stall, the woman ducked out, her cheeks bright red and her lips nearly bursting with knowing laughter.

Cheryl pushed Toni’s tiny frame against the gray bathroom wall, her cherry red lips pressing against the brunette’s plump pink ones, skin mingling with skin, spit mingling with spit as their mouths opened for tongues to join. Toni’s hands slid up the sides of Cheryl’s coat, her fingers falling on the top lapel before they gripped the material and pulled down, trapping Cheryl’s arms in the expensive brown fabric.

Toni turned Cheryl around, pressing her body against the wall as their mouths continued to assault each other, hands joining in the alcohol-hazed skirmish. Cheryl’s leg, a creamy white stem naked from the knee down, climbed up along Toni’s thigh, rubbing her warm flesh against the buttery soft material of Toni’s dress pants.

Toni tore her lips from Cheryl’s as she moved down to nibble on the inviting skin of her neck. “I’ve wanted this since I saw you sitting at that bar with that damn phone.”

“I’ve wanted this since you called me ‘power woman,’” Cheryl replied with heavy breath, both of them chuckling quietly in the public stall. “You really were so cruel to mention sunbathing nude in Tuscany.”

Toni laughed, licking a long line along Cheryl’s collarbone with a heated, excited tongue. “I wanted you to picture me naked. Looks like my plan worked.”

“Sneaky, sneaky,” Cheryl replied with a whisper, the warmth between her legs growing hotter and hotter with every flick of Toni’s tongue on her skin.

The two women fought to keep silent but ultimately lost, their giggling and exchanging of kisses, the suggestive sounds of fingers and tongues doing sinful things echoing against the acoustics of the public bathroom. When it was time to finally part ways, they both righted their clothes and grabbed their belongings, wheeling suitcases from the stall as they shuffled out of the bathroom, ignoring the stares of the other women situated near the long row of bathroom sinks.

When they escaped the restroom, they both burst into laughter, sobriety beginning to conquer tipsy as they lingered on the reality of what they had done. Unbeknownst to either of them, they both had been seeking something impulsive like this, something passionate and spontaneous, a reminder that life really could involve something off the cuff. No more stuffy ex-girlfriends, no more demanding work emails – for one singular moment in time, life really could just be fun.

“Here,” Cheryl offered out a business card, her personal cell number written on the back. “Call me, text me, email me, please. I had a good time.”

Toni grinned. “I’ve never met anyone like you, red.”

“And you never will,” Cheryl replied before turning the wheels of her suitcase around, clicking away in the opposite direction toward her gate. She turned her head back around to offer one last wink to Toni, flicking her flaming red hair back over her neck before continuing forward.

Toni watched as she disappeared into the sea of people still hovering around the airport, some searching for their gates, some seeking refuge from delayed flights. For the first time in days, the all-consuming sense of loneliness, the feeling of being so isolated in a crowded room, subsided, leaving Toni with a renewed sense of hope and optimism.

As Cheryl faded off, leaving no trace of her existence, Toni could still feel her presence in her own smile, turning back around in the direction of her own gate, thinking Tuscany could never beat the sunshine she had felt in that public airport bathroom.

 


	5. Betty & Jughead

**Betty & Jughead**

 

“Son of a bitch,” Betty Cooper muttered to herself, a thick cloud of breath leaving her mouth on the exhale. The charming tune of Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Jordan’s “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” ceased immediately, giving way to the near total silence of dusk, as her car sputtered out and died somewhere along the back roads off the interstate. Thankfully, she had been able to maneuver the vehicle to the side before it gave out completely, allowing the way for other drivers to pass.

From the looks of the untouched snow and quiet woods around her, Betty didn’t think there’d be much traffic to deal with.

The car was a total piece of junk, a cheap vehicle she had rented from an even cheaper agency. As she pulled the key from the ignition, reaching down with a free hand to pop open the hood, she thought about all the reasons why she loved using the subway system in the city. Efficiency, speed, and a maintenance crew that didn’t involve her.

 _It’s not like I don’t know my way around a car,_ she told herself as she grabbed her scarf from the passenger side seat, wrapping it around her delicate neck. She had grown up working on muscle cars with her father, elbows deep in grease and motor oil since she could type. She thought about calling her dad for back-up, considering another opinion might not be a bad idea as she remained stranded as the sun set on the side of a forest-surrounded path.

“Not a good idea,” she muttered to herself, remembering that she wasn’t currently speaking to her dad. It wasn’t that she was in the business of choosing sides, but when a father up and leaves his wife for another woman, it’s kind of difficult for the children to not pair up with their mom.

_How ironic. In choosing to ice my father out, I may just freeze to death._

Betty pushed open her car door, shoveling back an inch of snow that was then crushed by the weight of her snow boots. She was thankful for that foresight. The rest of her may turn to ice, but her toes would be toasty. She trudged through the thick white powder toward the front of the car, hoisting up the metal hood before locking it with the lever. Upon inspection, she could see her engine had seized up, overheated, from a possible lack of circulating antifreeze. She’d need a fresh thing of coolant, but where she’d find it out in the middle of snowy nowhere, she had no idea.

She slammed the hood back down, stomping back through the snow toward her front door to pull out her cell phone. The signal was poor, but she remembered a billboard a few miles back advertising for a bar & café that might have better reception than she was getting. She decided to gather up her purse and single suitcase and march her way up the remaining mile to her rerouted destination before it grew pitch dark.

“They’ve at least got to have chili,” she huffed as she crunched through the untouched snow. Her stomach was rumbling, her memory returning as she recalled the only thing she had eaten that morning was a blueberry muffin from a street cart. The thought of shelter, of warm, meaty chili sliding down her cold throat nearly sent shivers down her spine.

By the time she spotted the well-lit building, she estimated she had been trekking for nearly 30 minutes, grateful to have made it safe. _And to such a charming place,_ she observed. The bar & café was held together by a thick wooden frame, slats that ran deep from top to bottom, its roof crusted over in a dense white glaze of snow that made the whole thing looked like iced gingerbread. There were multi-colored Christmas lights strung along the roof and chimney, which boasted sizable puffs of gray smoke that seemed promising for a warm night in.

The front window was frosted around the edges, fogging the view from the outside looking in, but there was enough business and movement going on for Betty to see they were open and still serving. The front door, also covered in neon lights of gold, green, and red, felt solid as she pulled it open against the now bitter chill of evening.

Immediately, the warmth hit her like a smoldering hug, a large fireplace in the back of the establishment emitting an inviting glow of orange and red, framed by stone and mortar. There were pub tables and booths spread out against the open dining space, a few customers huddled around the tops with their mugs of what she assumed were coffee or something else hot. Others held mugs that glittered with white frost, their contents most likely the product of the several shining taps lining the bar back, labeled with a variety of craft brews.

Along the bar, there were two other patrons, one a woman who looked like she had practically grown roots to the place, her familiarity with the bartender that of someone who spoke together on a day-to-day basis. She certainly looked like a regular to Betty’s observant eyes.

The other patron, a man of more youth than the other woman, had his back hunched over a laptop, his fingers quickly plugging away at the keys in between swigs from the white décor-less ceramic mug beside him. He wore a jacket of thick gray denim, the collar covered in some sort of wool or down, and atop his head of what appeared to be scraggly jet black hair was a beanie of gray fashioned into that of a crown.

Betty admired the style, thinking it unique amongst the sea of other head gear and ear muffs that adorned the other customers. There was a seat next to him, the only other bar stool that didn’t appear to be covered in some sort of crumb or dust, and she stepped up to take it. She slid in with ease, setting her suitcase down beside it before stepping up to reach the seat. Her hands folded over the bar top, she peered down toward the bartender, hoping to procure a menu and phone book.

“Unless you’ve got a death wish, don’t order the chili,” the stranger beside her muttered. She turned her head to see him bring his cup to his mouth, taking another swig so casually she thought she dreamt him speaking at all.

“Excuse me?” she heard herself ask.

The man turned to look at her and she could see his eyes were a gentle blue, if a bit slightly hidden beneath the shaggy hair she could confirm was black as coal. His gaze felt a bit penetrating, but quickly he averted his stare to the chalkboard facing them nailed to the back of the bar. On it, written in festive red and green chalk, were the words “Daily Special: Hearty Fireside Chili.”

“If you value your insides at all, stay away from the chili. One person has already had to run home because of it, and I suspect the guy who just ordered it at the table by the fire will be the next to go.”

Betty peered around her shoulder to see a beefy looking man with a thick beard slurping up chunks of crumbled red meat and gravy from a big white bowl. He looked like he was enjoying every bite, but the words of the stranger beside her had her wondering how long the ecstasy would last before the intestinal pain.

She looked back at the man with the crown beanie, her mouth turned down in a frown. “Damn, that’s what I was hoping to get. It’s wicked cold outside and I just walked nearly a mile in the snow to get here.”

“All for the chili? You must not be from around here.”

Betty shook her head, unfurling her scarf from around her neck. “My car broke down somewhere off the interstate. Stalled engine, overheated. I was hoping to find a phone book so I could call a tow truck or find someplace around here that sold coolant. Was hoping to find some chili, too, in the meantime but I guess that’s probably not a wise decision.”

The man watched as she unbuttoned her coat, peeling it off her shoulders before draping it over the back of the bar stool’s seat. “You won’t have much luck finding an auto parts store around here, either, unfortunately. The closest place for that will be Riverdale.”

“Which is exactly where I’m trying to go,” she sighed.

“There’s probably a tow company that will come and bail your car out, but it might be too late now to call.” He shrugged his shoulders, his eyes returning to the screen of his laptop. Betty thought he might be done with the conversation, but after a moment of silence he piped up, “Get the beans and cornbread instead. Heartier without the heart attack or the upset stomach.”

“Thanks,” Betty pursed her lips, unsure of what else to say. “And thanks for the tip about the auto parts store.”

The guy nodded and resumed his coffee-drinking and typing.

Eventually, Betty was able to flag down the bartender, an older man with a kind smile and somewhat leathery skin. He was bald but for the black and white flecks of a five o’clock shadow peppering his chin, cheeks, and jawline.

“What can I get for you, ma’am?”

“A phone book, please,” she asked, biting her lower lip awkwardly, “and an order of beans and cornbread.”

She could feel the man next to her smirk a bit, his face turning barely an inch toward her, before he resumed his typing. When the bartender came back, setting down a thick booklet of musty yellow and white pages, Betty held her hand up.

“Do you guys also have hot cocoa?”

The bartended nodded, his mouth turned down in a nonchalant frown as he turned away and headed back toward the kitchens.

“Somehow I’m not shocked by the cocoa.”

Betty turned back toward the stranger beside her. “I beg your pardon?”

He continued typing, notably skilled as his eyes left the keyboard to take in her appearance again. “You just don’t seem like the black coffee kind of girl. More like the kind that likes a lot of milk and sugar, which means you might as well order the cocoa. Tis the season.”

“You have an awful lot of opinions about me for someone I’ve never met.”

He shrugged, his eyes returning to the laptop screen. “I’m a writer. I get paid to make observations about people and use them for my stories.”

“Are you any good?”

He scoffed lightly to himself. “I’m not horrible but I won’t be so bold to admit that I’m a best-seller. I do what I can, though. And traveling here and there makes it easy.”

“So is that what you do? Travel write?”

He shook his head. “No, I write fiction. Travel writing would require me to go off to long distance locations for long periods of time, and that kind of freedom isn’t in the cards for me at the moment.”

“Girlfriend?” Betty fished.

“Nope. Sister. I take care of her primarily.”

Betty looked around the bar area. “Unless she’s a middle-aged man, I take it she’s not here?”

The stranger chuckled, clicking an icon on his laptop before closing the screen shut. “You’d be right.”

The bartender set down a mug in front of Betty, its sweet steam giving off the aroma of rich chocolate, the swirl of whipped cream on top slowly dissipating into liquid sugar in the cup. Jughead held up a finger and pointed to the cup. “I’ll have one of those too, Tom. Thanks.”

Betty grabbed the mug handle and carefully brought the hot drink to her lips. “Glad to see I could do the suggesting this time.”

“It just looked too tempting not to try. Plus, it might give the ulcer in my stomach from all of this coffee a reprieve.”

Betty smiled, giggling once before taking a sip of her cocoa. When she set the mug down, she extended that same hand in his direction. “I’m Betty, by the way.”

He took her hand and shook it gently, the space between their palms feeling warm and familiar. “Jughead. It’s Jughead.”

“Jughead…” Betty trailed off, nodding slowly while trying not to laugh at the odd moniker.

“It’s a family thing,” he explained. “The real name is much worse.”

“So you said you take care of your sister? What happened to your parents?”

He looked down at the bar with a sober expression. “My mom took off when I was about to graduate from high school. She decided she needed a change of scenery, and I guess we weren’t shiny and new enough anymore. She eventually moved back and gets certain holidays with my sister, though I let my sister make those kinds of decisions for herself. She’s old enough at this point and I like to perpetuate the idea of autonomy.”

“What about your dad? Did he die?”

Jughead’s sober expression turned stern as his mouth set in a firm thin line, his eyes glued forward and not in her direction. “No, but there was a time I wish he had.”

When that was all the information he gave, she decided to let it drop, seeing the anger it was beginning to swell in him. It was the holidays, after all, and she was stranded without a friend. The least she could do was make decent company with someone there and not spoil it.

“So I take it your sister is with your mother tonight? And you’re here for Christmas?”

He shook his head, reaching for his nearly empty mug of coffee, finishing off the dregs with one final swallow. “She’s with my mother tonight but I’ll be back in town tomorrow for the holiday. I’ll pick her up then.”

“Do you live in Riverdale?”

“I do. Born and raised. You said you were traveling there. Are you from Riverdale? I don’t think I’ve seen you in town before and it’s not exactly a metropolis.”

This time, it was Betty who shook her head. “No, I live in the city. My mom followed my sister up to Riverdale earlier this year after my father left.” The bartender set the second mug of cocoa down on the bar in the space between them. “Apparently, he thought some other woman could fulfill something in his life my mother couldn’t.”

“Well,” Jughead declared, picking up the fresh mug in front of them. “Cheers to shitty dads and the kids who are doing just fine without them.”

Betty clinked her mug against his, taking a swig of the warm liquid. She licked the cream from her top lip, setting the mug back down with a clank. “That was a horrible toast,” she giggled.

Jughead chuckled and shrugged. “Like I said, I don’t proclaim to be absolutely wonderful with words.”

Two bowls of beans and cornbread and a few hours worth of conversation later, Betty and Jughead were still perched on their bar stools, laughter dripping from their mouths. Sometime in the evening, they had switched from cocoa to cocktails, and Betty could feel her cheeks warm from something other than the good company.

“That is so ridiculous, Jughead! I can’t believe you and Archie did that.”

“I told you my best friend is like a new puppy, little wit and all energy. You can imagine our parents were pissed.”

“Yes, I can certainly imagine,” she agreed, finishing off her drink with a quick toss back of her head.

Jughead cleared his throat, gathering up his supplies and sliding his laptop into his bag. “Look, I hope this doesn’t sound too forward of me, but I need to get back to my cabin and get some shut eye before tomorrow. There isn’t a hotel in miles of this joint and I have a spare couch. If you’d like, you’re welcome to bunk at my place. I can pass out on the couch if you’d prefer, but just putting it out there you have a place to stay if you need it. The bar’s going to shut down soon anyway.”

Betty felt her cheeks flush with the prospect of spending an evening with Jughead. Sometime during their encounter, perhaps as soon as the alcohol began to kick in, she began to pick up on the little nuances about him that garnered appeal. He was certainly an attractive guy. Maybe not conventionally hot, but there was something about him, the way he looked at her with a sly smile in a profile view, the way he laughed genuinely when something she said made him laugh, that made her realize he was one of the more attractive men she had come across in a long time.

It didn’t hurt that he was witty and smart, clever and humble and maybe even a little down on himself. Though lack of confidence wasn’t the sexiest element, a little of it was still more tolerable than the overconfident jerks she felt like she was constantly running into in the city. He was a fascinating storyteller and a bit blunt, a welcome change from the constantly guarded people of Manhattan.

The thought of sleeping within his immediate proximity had her skin flushing with all kinds of thoughts. As the booze had settled, she began focusing less on his stories and more on the way his lips looked as he told them. They were pink and a bit plump, rounded at the bottom and a little cracked, maybe a bit dehydrated. She longed to get them wet, soothe them, smooth them out with her own…

And that was when she had to shake off her thoughts about this complete stranger. It wasn’t like Betty to entertain lustful thoughts of people she barely knew. So she convinced herself to focus on the content and not the narrator and just enjoy her time in his presence.

But now he was inviting her to stay with him, one night only, and it was hard not to think of the underlying societal context that came with that offer. It may not have been exactly what he was offering, but she had to admit it was hard not to think what else a man and a woman, who clearly got along, could do when alone in a cabin by themselves.

She needed shelter, though. She couldn’t very well walk back to her car in the snow and sleep in the backseat. She’d freeze and put herself in danger of any stranger that may come upon her, vulnerable in sleep and cold, in the middle of the night.

“Thank you for the offer. It might be my best offer, to be honest. I’m not one hundred percent sure you’re not a serial killer,” she laughed, her attempt at making light of the situation, “but I guess I’ll have to take my chances. If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” he clarified.

 


	6. Veronica & Archie

**Veronica & Archie**

 

“I don’t care what it costs, Andre – just order it, please. I want this Christmas to be over the top this year and I’ll pay what I need to to make that happen.”

Raven-haired Veronica Lodge pushed through the glass door of the department store, four shopping bags slung over the wrist of one arm while the other was up near her ear, holding the cell phone close to her face. The dark fur of her coat swished around the back of her knees, the skin beneath exposed to the cold winter air of Riverdale. Her tight dress under the coat was also black, made of snug sweater material, complete with a necklace of pearl and black two inch high heels. She clicked her way down the sidewalk, arguing demands through the receiver of the phone as she left a heavily perfumed trail in her wake.

“I don’t care, Andre. It’s like you’re not listening to me. Just get it!” She hit the “End” button on her smart phone and hung up. She huffed into the air, sending a cloud of white out in front of her. She scrolled through the apps on the screen of her phone, searching for the Amazon icon. Last-minute shopping was a bitch, but nothing was impossible or out of reach for Veronica Lodge.

Her browsing was interrupted as another call appeared on the screen. She hit “Accept” and brought the phone to her ear.

“Hello, mother.”

“Mija, where are you?”

“I’m just finishing up some shopping downtown. I should be back at the Pembroke in a matter of minutes.”

“We’re not at the Pembroke, darling. We’re still at the hospital.”

“Is everything okay? Do I need to join you up there?”

“No – Leroy’s doing okay. We just spoke to his doctor and she said he should be discharged in a couple of days.”

“So he’s still going to be spending Christmas in the hospital?”

“Unfortunately, yes. We were going to bring some of his gifts up here for him tonight. There’s still the matter of his treatment, though. We may move forward with transferring him out of town for the time being. It’s becoming too expensive for him to get his radiation in Riverdale.”

“It shouldn’t be a matter of money, mother,” Veronica huffed into the phone, warm breath billowing out in puffs of condensation amongst the chilly afternoon air. “It’s a matter of getting the finest care possible. It’s Christmas Eve, for Christ’s sake. He deserves only the finest if he can’t be out here like all the rest of us, enjoying the holiday.”

After another irritating thirty seconds of hearing her mother’s shrill voice on the other line, Veronica decided to cut her off. “Mother, I don’t care. I know you want to move him to a facility in Greendale, but he has all of his friends here in Riverdale. Plus it’s a fantastic children’s hospital and comes highly recommended. I know Aunt Sybil wants him to stay.”

“But Aunt Sybil isn’t the only one footing the bill.”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “I know we’ve been helping fund his care. Don’t you want the best for your nephew?”

Veronica Lodge could feel the stress and anxiety knead their way into her shoulders. Not only was it the day before Christmas and the streets were packed with last-minute shoppers like herself, but she had to deal with the issue of her nephew’s hospital care on top of it all.

Leroy wasn’t actually her nephew. He was more like her cousin, the son of her mother’s sister, but he was young enough that she considered him like a nephew. He had all the breeding of the Lodge genes with the fierce heart that she connected with, and he was cleverer and more mature than most of their family wanted to give him credit for.

With something as serious as cancer, he had to grow up faster than most.

“I don’t want to discuss this any further, mother, not today. It’s Christmas Eve and I still have shopping left to do. Let’s just table this conversation for another da—“

As she rounded the corner around one of the shops, she stumbled right into the nearly empty guitar case planted on the other side of the bend, the few coins and dollars inside rattling around as her ankle caught on the felt lining, bringing her tumbling down to the ground.

Her cell phone went flying, the bags connected around her wrist slamming to the ground, as her knees made purchase with the concrete. She hadn’t hit the ground as hard as she expected, though, caught by her arms by the pair of another – more muscular, more fair-skinned, more manly.

When she looked up, her startled brown eyes met a pair of soft dark hazel, instantly lost in the gaze of this unexpected, but not unwelcome knight in shining armor.

“Are you okay, miss?”

“I, uh, I’m okay.”

He helped her stand back up and she looked down with disgust at the empty guitar case on the ground, the culprit in her downfall. “Some irresponsible busker must have left their equipment all over the place.”

He cleared his throat, picking up the guitar that was laying a few feet away on the ground. “That busker would be me.”

She furrowed her brow, looking him up and down with confusion. He looked well put together, handsome in a pair of clean jeans and a dark blue knit sweater. He certainly didn’t look like a man begging for money on the streets, using his guitar as his means of earning.

“I’m sorry, are you actually playing on the streets for cash?”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

She gaped her mouth at him. “Well, yes. It’s Christmas. We’re all spending our hard-earned money on our loved ones, not throwing it away at some bum who’s likely to blow it all in one place, which I think you can guess where that would be.”

He scoffed, amazed at her arrogance. “You think playing for strangers in the cold isn’t hard-earned?”

“I think it’s not a professional or mature means of making a living. This is a nice street. Why don’t you take your begging somewhere else?”

His eyes grew wide with amazement. “Wow. Okay.” He slung his guitar over his shoulder and picked up his guitar case, holding one hand up in surrender. “Message received. Please, by all means, let me get my disapproving self out of your sight.”

She watched as he crossed the road, a twinge of guilt hitting her as she took a moment to realize all of the things she had said. She blamed the stress and all this talk of money for Leroy’s care. She wasn’t normally that snobbish. It just took her by surprise to see such a handsome man in such an unconventional position.

The more she thought about it, though, the more his reaction to her words got under her skin. _He had quite the attitude,_ she recalled. _Maybe if he was nicer, he would have had more cash in his guitar case than the measly few dollars that was in there._

Satisfied with her assessment of the whole situation, she gathered up the rest of her shopping bags and her cell phone. She had one final shop to pop by before she was done.

She made her last pit stop at a fashion boutique, searching through the stacks of business ties and scarves to find the right accessory for her father before she found the best selection and purchased it. As she normally did when she shopped, she used the time as therapy, a means of working out her thoughts as she charged purchase after purchase on her credit card.

It had been a difficult week thus far leading up to the holidays. First, her trip to Riverdale had been delayed by a day, the product of some last minute orders from her shop. Normally, Veronica would have told them to wait after the new year, however the items were for a couple of her regulars and she knew positive and reliable relationships were key to good business.

Next, there was the growing irritation that came with dwelling within fifty feet of her parents. As much as she loved them, Hermione and Hiram Lodge had their way of putting that “Grinch-like” spirit in Veronica’s heart when it came to Christmas festivities. Not only was there the issue of Leroy’s hospital bills, but her parents were often unimpressed or hypercritical depending on which holiday party they were invited to, and her mother was especially cruel when it came to Veronica’s fashion choices for those festivities they opted to attend.

Veronica was a curve too many, a breast size too small, a piece of jewelry too few. There was always something to criticize that would take a bounce out of her step.

She tried to shake the negative thoughts from her head as she stepped out the store, a new shopping bag in tow. Instead, she decided she’d congratulate herself on completing her holiday shopping with a little something extra special for herself.

_Maybe something warm and tasty._

Rippola’s was right around the corner, a café that boasted the best espresso and Italian food in Riverdale. She’d need the extra boost of caffeine if she was going to be up all afternoon, wrapping presents and delivering them to her nephew.

As she made her way through the crosswalk, a spring in her step as she thought of the warm cappuccino awaiting her, she could hear the peaceful strumming of a guitar in the near distance.

She thought perhaps it was coming from the outdoor speakers of the café, another coffee shop selection of classic Christmas songs with a modern twist, but her steps were halted by the sight of the same busker settled a storefront away. His guitar case was open, inviting passing townspeople to contribute what they could, as he strummed from his instrument.

She had to admit the sound was charming, calm and serene and enjoyable, but the memory of their initial encounter had her heckles up.

“What are you doing here?” she confronted. “Rippola’s is my place.”

“I didn’t realize you had authority over this particular establishment, duchess.”

“I don’t, but I’d like to enjoy a cappuccino in peace.”

“Is my strumming not peaceful enough for you?” he asked, changing the tune from a gentle Christmas tune to some rock jam, a jarring break in the once calm atmosphere.

“You’re awfully arrogant for someone asking for money.”

“Do you even know why I’m playing?”

She shrugged. “Your next meal?”

He rolled his eyes, ceasing his strumming before setting his guitar down, leaning it against the brick wall behind him. He bent down and picked up a flyer from the inside of his case, holding it out for her to take.

“It’s for charity. I play Christmas carols around town every year for the children’s shelter. I’ve been doing it since I was 16.”

Veronica stared at the flyer in her hand, reading off the description of the shelter’s needs, scanning toward the bottom at the name on the paper.

“Archie Andrews?”

“That’s me,” he replied, taking the flyer back from her. He grabbed for his guitar and laid it down in the case after grabbing the coins strewn about inside. He snapped the case shut and stood back up, looking her up and down.

“You look like you have money. Care to make a donation?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, you’ve got about five different bags strung around your wrists and you were going on and on earlier about hard-earned money. Perhaps you’d like to put your cash where your mouth is and contribute to those less fortunate this year.”

“I’d love to, but I’m already taking care of a less fortunate child this year.”

“And the rest don’t deserve your attention?”

“You’re very pushy,” she observed.

“I mean well,” he shrugged. He looked over at the café and back at her. “Maybe you’d like to get a bite, hear more about the cause?”

She considered her schedule, considered his position and her earlier assumptions of him. Her pride had her wanting to refuse him, reject his offer for dinner and move on.

_But you were such a bitch to him earlier._

She knew she had made a lot of baseless assumptions, and the last thing she wanted was to be classified as a snob. She thought it was worth giving him a little bit of her time to save herself the headache of guilt later on.

“Fine,” she declared. “But only because it’s for the children. I have a soft spot in my heart for them.”

Thirty minutes later, the frost beginning to form on the windows outside as the wind picked up, Veronica found herself laughing along to one of Archie’s stories. She found herself surprised, being this comfortable in his presence. It was only a couple of hours before and she thought him somebody completely different than he actually was.

When it came down to it, she realized he was a lot smarter than she thought, even if he didn’t use big words and put his elbows on the table. He was big on family, huge on children, and seemed to be a very loyal and honest man.

“So what did you tell him?”

“I told him to get off his ass and move the damn ball.”

Veronica giggled, a compliment to the end of his story. She took a sip from her glass of wine and swirled it about in her hand. “You know, I really misjudged you, Archie. You’re not the kind of guy I thought you were.”

“And you’re not the kind of woman I thought you were.”

Veronica cocked her head to the side. “And what kind of woman was that?”

“Haughty, vein. Maybe a little self-important.”

Her jaw fell open, a look of astonishment on her face. “Are you serious?”

“Can you blame me? Without really knowing me, you assumed I was some begger on the street, which seemed like the worst thing ever to you. If I were a begger, which I’m not, that wouldn’t make me less a person. You looked at me like I was shit on the bottom of your shoe.”

She was silent for a moment, letting the shame of his words settle in. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’d like to blame the stress of the holidays or the personal mess I’ve got going on at home, but that doesn’t excuse the way I acted.”

Archie took a sip of his own wine, considered her before asking, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Veronica sighed. “I feel like that’s all I’ve been doing, talking and talking about it with my mother until I’m blue in the face. The truth is, I have a nephew, or rather a cousin I consider my nephew, who is sick with cancer.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry to have to say it. But that’s the reality – he’s sick and our family has been trying to juggle his care for the last couple of years. I find my mother to be completely heartless, wanting to rip him away from his home life here in Riverdale to move his care to another hospital in a different town, but she won’t hear otherwise. I’m hoping for a real Christmas miracle, here, Archie.”

“Maybe your mother has her reasons?”

Veronica looked up at him with a stern look, forcing him to throw his hands up in defeat. “I only say that as a means of playing devil’s advocate. You won’t know what she’s thinking if you’re constantly trying to prove your own side of the argument. Maybe just hear her out?”

Veronica shrugged. “I guess it’s worth a shot, though I don’t want to do it tonight. It’s about to be Christmas. I’d like to actually enjoy the holiday, and I want Leroy to enjoy it too.”

They both took a bite from their respective plates, Veronica taking the free moment as an opportunity to think of another topic to bring up.

“So, music – you’re a really good guitar player. Have you ever thought of taking it somewhere professionally?”

This time, it was Archie’s turn to shrug, working up his response as he sat in the hot seat. “Not really. I mean, I’ve played a few gigs in the city but nothing eye-catching. I guess I sort of gave up on that dream, using my talents to entertain the locals. By day, I work as a construction site manager, a legacy job after my dad. In case you were wondering what I actually did for a living.”

She smirked at his smirk, the blush forming in her cheeks. She speared another bite of her ravioli with her fork, sweeping up a bit of the meat sauce. “I have an uncle who lives in Miami. He works for a record company. Maybe I could play him some of your songs, if you have a demo.”

“You haven’t even really heard me play, or at least you haven’t heard me sing.”

“Something tells me you’re great at it.”

“I might be, but modesty wouldn’t allow me to say it.” He took another drink of his wine. “You could always come see me play. I’ll be performing at the Jubilee tonight.”

“That event at the high school? I thought Josie McCoy was performing.”

“She is. I’m one of the acts performing after her. She’s the _headliner_ but she wanted to open up the show.”

“I see.”

“Well, what do you say? Feel like checking me out for yourself?”

She bit her lip at his proposal, shaking her head and smiling at his double meaning as he smirked again playfully at her.

“Why the Hell not?”


	7. Jellybean & Leroy

**Jellybean & Leroy**

 

“Watch where you’re going, young lady!”

Jellybean slowed down her footing to a brisk walk, craning her neck around to see the disapproving look on the face of the nurse shouting at her from down the corridor. She was in a hurry, anxious to see her school friend before his scheduled appointment, and her feet couldn’t move fast enough. She wanted to run, but knew someone else would just yell at her if she did.

She was in a hospital, after all, and that meant abiding by the rules of safety.

Her backpack bounced as she hustled down the hall toward room 547, her straight sandy-brown hair swinging to and fro as she rounded the corner. The door to the hospital room was slightly ajar, the sound of “A Charlie Brown Christmas” coming from a television somewhere in the tiny room. Stepping inside, it was like the movie had nearly come to life.

There was a series of tiny decorated trees that lined the counter space beneath a wide, expansive window along the side wall, the frost from the outdoors lining the clear panes. There were small and big boxes colored with shiny paper of red, green, and gold, all wrapped up in elaborate bows and ribbons of lace and silk. There was even a puff of fake white snow lining the bottom of the trees, the illusion of the outdoors inside the cramped and slightly stuffy hospital room of the Pediatric Oncology unit.

Jellybean recognized the look of Lodge luxury. Her friend Leroy came from a well-known, well-respected, and wealthy family in Riverdale, as evident by the décor and pile of presents. What she liked most about Leroy, though, was that he didn’t carry the air of money with him. He was a nice boy to everyone, including someone like Jellybean.

It wasn’t that money was something at the forefront of her mind. Jellybean was nine, too young to think about finances or poverty, but even her undeveloped mind was astute enough to note the difference between her clothes and the clothes of the other kids at school. Hers were more worn, some bearing small holes in the lining or tears at the bottom of her jeans, patches in her favorite jacket, but it never bothered her. She was proud of what she owned, but there were kids at her school who weren’t so understanding, their snobbishness lorded over her.

Leroy was different, though. Leroy was a friend to everyone, he didn’t care what they wore or if they had stains on their shoes or rips in their backpacks.

“Hey, JB,” the young boy greeted, his face beaming into a smile so white, it warred with the fake snow.

And it was the feeling she got when he smiled, the sensation of bubbles and butterflies in her guts, that had her realizing Leroy was different from the other boys in a lot of ways.

He had her heart.

“Hey, Leroy,” she smiled back, dropping her backpack near the doorway as she stepped up to the hospital bed. He was tucked under a great red blanket of some soft material that Jellybean imagined felt like butter against the skin. He looked better rested than the day before, but still there were noticeable changes even she couldn’t ignore. His hair, once glistening with a jet black shine, was duller, falling apart at the scalp in small clumps. About a week ago, he told her he decided to start wearing a beanie, something to make him feel included with the cold world outside, but she knew it was really because of his hair.

In that instant, Jellybean hated cancer more than anything.

“I brought you your assignment from Mrs. Lovitz. Thank God it’s the last one for the season. We had to do those stupid multiplication worksheets again. At least we got to watch ‘Frosty’ in class though.”

Leroy’s cheery face dropped slightly, enough for Jellybean to curse herself for bringing it up. She knew Leroy felt left out, trapped in the hospital after his latest bout of pneumonia nearly zapped him of his energy. He had been stuck there for two weeks and, in agreeance with the doctor’s suggestion, started back up with his cancer treatments.

“It’s for total babies, though,” she tried to play it off, acting like it was no big deal that they got to watch Christmas movies in class. She decided it was also best not to mention that they also had a class party with tons of snacks and sweets. Instead, she reached into her bag for the sack of cookies and candies, holding them out for him to take.

“I made you these,” she lied with a smile, hoping he wouldn’t see through the fib. The last thing she wanted to do was make him feel worse for being in the hospital. “You should try the iced oatmeal. Those are the best.”

“Thanks, JB,” Leroy replied, his smile returning to its normal cheery self. “That’s sweet.”

She watched as he set them to the side on the hospital tray table. She knew without him saying that his appetite was gone again. Leroy used to be the boy who could out-eat her in the cafeteria, the boy who would spend a little extra cash in line to buy them both ice creams, only to challenge her to see who could eat their treat fastest without getting a brain freeze. For him to pass up food, she knew he had to be feeling terrible.

She pulled up a chair nestled in the corner of the room, dragging it near the hospital bed before she settled into the cushioned seat. “Anything good on?”

Leroy shrugged, picking up the remote from the bed. “Not much, just the same Christmas movies that come on every year. The new Grinch is supposed to come on soon, though. You know, the one with the guy who played in ‘The Mask’?”

“Jim Carrey, yeah,” she nodded. When he looked at her with a curious expression, she shrugged. “My brother’s a movie buff. He knows all the actors of every movie practically.”

As the two settled into the movie, its opening credits a series of snowflakes and the sad story of how the Grinch came to be, Jellybean nestled into her thoughts. She had been coming to the hospital nearly every day while Leroy had been admitted, using the guise of bringing him his homework as an excuse to spend time with him. They had grown close over their fourth grade year, almost cut short by his sudden admission to the hospital. Jellybean was determined to keep their friendship going, and practically begged their teachers to let her take his homework to him.

It wasn’t just his friendship, though, that had her coming to the hospital every afternoon. It was the way his company made her feel, the way her ears would heat up when she thought about him. It was the sensation she felt, the urge to reach out and grab his hand, feel his fingers intertwine with hers, that had her realizing what she really felt for Leroy moved beyond friendship. _She had a crush._

And it killed her to see him in such pain without a single thing she could do to help. She hoped just being present and treating him like a normal, average kid would help to keep his spirits up. There wasn’t much more she could do. She asked her brother for advice, but he basically told her what she already knew – just be there for him when he needs a friend the most.

She couldn’t think of any other place where he’d need a friend more.

The other dilemma she couldn’t figure out was what to get Leroy for Christmas, the boy who had everything but a healthy body, something she couldn’t provide. She wanted to buy him something extremely special, but she had no idea where to begin. She thought about a cap, something to cover the lifeless hair that clung where once thriving hair shined, but she worried that would only remind him of his cancer. That’s the last thing she wanted to do.

“How can the Grinch stand being so alone all the time?” Leroy asked, grimacing at the television screen. “He doesn’t even have any video games in his cave.”

Jellybean giggled. “He’s got Max, at least.”

“Yeah, at least he’s got a dog,” Leroy agreed. _I could get him a dog._ She dismissed the thought almost as soon as it came. Of course she couldn’t give him a dog.

“I wish Hot Dog was that smart,” she commented, watching as the dog purposefully pulled a specific lever, sending his green-skinned master down the tunnel toward the town of Whoville. “All he does is sit around and eat dog food. Jughead taught him one time to steal food from someone else’s picnic table, but that’s about it.”

Leroy chuckled, his cheeks reddening up with laughter, and Jellybean prided herself on cheering him up.

“That’s a pretty cool trick, you gotta admit.”

Jellybean shrugged in agreement. “I guess so.” She pursed her lips, looking to fish for gift ideas for her friend. “What else do you wish you could have? I mean, since you can’t have a dog.”

Leroy tilted his chin to the side in thought, his eyes peering up toward the ceiling. “Hmm, that’s a good question. My mom and dad already bought me a lot of gifts. Not having cancer would be pretty cool, I guess.”

 _Can’t give you that_ , she sighed to herself. This was going to be a lot tougher than she thought. She wondered if she’d be able to ask Mr. and Mrs. Lodge what they bought him so she could get him something else from his Christmas list.

 _They have a lot of money and probably already bought him everything_ , she grimaced.

“Okay, kiddos, time to pack it up.”

Jellybean was snapped out of her thoughts, her anxious eyes meeting those of a male nurse with tan skin, the dark navy of his scrubs almost as dark as the brown of his eyes. He had black hair and a kind smile as he stepped through the doorway of Leroy’s hospital room. In his hands rested the arm grips of a small wheelchair, its wheels spinning slowly as he brought it to a stop beside Leroy’s bed.

“You have a special holiday round of treatment due and they’re all waiting for you downstairs. I hear they’re making a party of it.”

“Aww, Fangs… do I have to?” Leroy whined, following with a heavy sigh.

“Afraid so, bud. But there’s going to be games and punch and I hear Santa’s even going to show up. You don’t want to miss that, do you?”

“How can Santa find me when I’m not even at home? I thought you had to have a chimney for Santa to find you?”

“Are you kidding me?” The nurse presumably named Fangs replied, aghast with mocking confusion as he gaped at Leroy. “This place has a _ton_ of fireplaces all over down in the basement. Santa never has any problem bringing gifts to the other kids that have been here. But you’ll never find out if you don’t get in this chair and see for yourself.”

“Fine, I guess,” Leroy replied, but Jellybean could see his curiosity had gotten the best of him.

Fangs turned to address Jellybean. “Sorry, kiddo. Your friend here has an appointment that he can’t miss, and afterwards he’ll be pretty worn out. Why don’t you come back later after he’s had a nap? Or maybe you have somewhere else to be, with family maybe? It is Christmas Eve after all.”

Jellybean bit her bottom lip nervously. “Yeah, there’s a school program tonight and I can’t miss it.”

“The Christmas show with that really good guitar player your brother knows? Oh man!” Leroy huffed as he settled from the bed into the wheelchair, wrapping his robe tightly around his legs. “I wish I could be there.”

“Sorry you’re gonna miss it, bud,” Fangs said as he wheeled Leroy forward, making room for him to back out of the room into the hallway. “Maybe your friend can record it for you. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind, that’s what friends do. Though I doubt my own best friend Sweet Pea would do something that cool for me…”

They rolled down the tiled hall, Leroy’s hand up in the air waving goodbye as they passed the decorated nurses’ station and the rooms of three other patients before turning to the right and out of sight.

It was then that Jellybean got a sudden brilliant, fantastic idea. If Leroy couldn’t come to the program in person, she’d have to bring him there another way.

She looked down at the iPhone in her hand, its apps shining brightly up at her as she scanned the interface for a familiar green icon with the image of a white video camera. She knew Leroy also had an iPhone, which meant he shared the capability of Facetiming.

If he couldn’t be there to see the guitarist jam, to hang out with his friends and enjoy the festivities of the Riverdale Christmas Jubilee, maybe he could be there while he rested in his hospital bed.

Jellybean grabbed her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder as she hightailed it out of the hospital room, skipping down the tiled steps, the sound of an irritated nurse behind her as they shouted for her to slow down. But she didn’t care.

She finally found the perfect Christmas gift for her friend and for the boy she loved. She had a lot to figure out before the Jubilee and there’d be no slowing down, not even for a hospital full of sick people.

 


	8. Fangs & Sweet Pea

**Fangs & Sweet Pea**

 

“Another round for the boys, Snake Eye,” Reggie Mantle called from his bar stool, hand obnoxiously waving in the air as he tried to catch the attention of the surly-looking bartender. “It’s Christmas Eve and I think it’s about time we start celebrating.”

“Celebrating what?” Sweet Pea asked as he downed the last of his beer. “None of us have any crazy holiday plans.”

“Speak for yourself, string bean,” Reggie replied, settling back down in his seat. He smoothed out the wrinkles in his button-down dress shirt, by far the most dapper looking person in the grungy Southside bar. “I’ve got big plans. Big, _big_ plans, my friend.”

“And what exactly are they?” Sweet Pea asked, a tall beast of a man with shaggy dark hair and even darker circles under his eyes. He looked more at home inside the bar, his flannel and worn jeans a fine pair to the leather jackets and ragged denim vests surrounding them.

“There you are, you two shitheads.”

Sweet Pea and Reggie turned around at the greeting, the bright light flooding into the dim bar as a short, tan-skinned man sauntered into the room. He was bundled in a nice looking pea coat, fancier than the atmosphere around them, and a simple pair of tennis shoes somewhat covered in snow. He dusted off the stray white powder as he crossed from the entrance to the bar, picking a stool to the left of Sweet Pea.

“The fuck have you been, Fangs?” Reggie asked, his signature sneer aimed at their new arrival.

Fangs unbuttoned his coat, peeling off the scarf from around his neck, before revealing the pair of navy blue scrubs underneath. “I was at work, you dick.”

“Oh yeah, save any lives today?”

“Always.”

“Don’t you just hang out with snot-nosed kids all day long?”

“And they’re still cooler than you are, Mantle.”

“Burn,” Sweet Pea laughed. He put a hand up for the bartender who nodded, reaching into the glass bin for another pint glass. “Why don’t you have a seat? Reggie here was about to tell me what his big, _big_ plans are for Christmas.”

“We better wait for Fangs to get his drink,” Reggie replied, practically bouncing on his toes, the anticipation obviously killing him.

The other two men rolled their eyes, snickering to each other. Sweet Pea gestured with a pointed thumb at Reggie. “I can’t think anything you’d say would be that exciting.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, my friend,” Reggie replied, watching as Snake Eye set a fresh round of beers in front of the trio. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

“Well, I’ve got my beer now,” Fangs declared. “Just get on with your story then.”

Reggie took a hefty swig before setting the beer back down, building up to the big moment. “Okay, so it’s settled – this Christmas, I’m going to have… _a threesome!_ ”

Sweet Pea and Fangs were silent for a beat before they both broke out into bellows of laughter, Sweet Pea tossing his head back as he erupted in hollers, Fangs nearly spitting out the beer he tried to keep in his mouth.

“That’s the most ridiculous fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Sweet Pea declared. “Where are you going to find one girl to sleep with you, much less two?”

Reggie looked at them with an open, confused mouth. “What do you mean? Mantle the Marvelous? I get all the ladies.”

The laughter from Sweet Pea and Fangs rose ten decibels as they cackled even louder, Fangs actually managing to shoot beer out of his nose all over the bar top, earning a disapproving look from Snake Eye.

“Come on, guys. I managed to get Josie McCoy back in high school.”

“Maybe back in high school! Plus, who is Josie McCoy?”

“Are you kidding me?” Fangs asked. “She’s that big superstar singer who grew up in Riverdale. She’s the one performing tonight at the Jubilee.”

“Oh, that’s right. I totally forgot that thing was happening.”

“Yeah, well, I totally hit that before and I bet I could hit even hotter now.”

“Good luck with that,” Fangs replied condescendingly. “Chick is totally smokin’.”

“You’ll see,” Reggie retorted. “Come Christmas morning, I’m going to be so deep in puss you two won’t be able to see through all the jealousy.”

“Right, right, Reggie,” Sweet Pea agreed with a patronizing nod. “I’ll be anxious to see who you come up with.”

Reggie looked down at his watch, nearly choking on his drink. “Speaking of, I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got a date lined up tonight, total hottie who already told me she’s D-T-F, and it doesn’t take five minutes to make this body look this good.”

Reggie gathered up his coat and wallet, scooping up his cell phone before he turned to his friends. “I’ll see you boys tomorrow… if I can even walk again.”

With a wink, he dashed off, pushing back the door to the bar to let the light back in. Once he was gone, Sweet Pea and Fangs erupted into laughter once more, shaking their heads in Reggie’s direction.

“Reggie in a threesome… I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“I’d rather _not_ see it,” Fangs replied. “That’s one ass I’d like to keep free from my mind.”

“Agreed.”

Fangs took another swig of his beer. “So, back to the matter of this Jubilee, you’re coming with me.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because,” Fangs cleared his throat, “you’re like my family and you’re supposed to spend Christmas with the ones you love.”

“Aww, you love me?” Sweet Pea teased, batting his eyelashes at Fangs.

“Come off it,” Fangs sneered, shoving his best friend in the arm. “Of course I love you. You’re like my brother. You’ve known me longer than anyone else I know. You’ve been with me through the shit, man. When my folks died and I thought I had to move away from Riverdale, you fought your old man to keep me here. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably be stuck in some shithole foster home in Greendale.”

“There’s no need to get sappy, dude,” Sweet Pea bumped Fangs’ arm with his shoulder playfully. “Just because it’s Christmas time.”

Fangs chuckled. “I know, man. Maybe it’s just spending all this time with these damn kids. And there’s this one boy that I’ve been looking after. Poor kid’s been stuck in the hospital for weeks. His folks must be rich, they’re constantly bringing him expensive gadgets and gifts to occupy his time, but out of all the people who come and see him, he really only lights up when this one little girl comes to visit. You can tell they’re close friends. It just reminds me of us.”

Sweet Pea nodded, taking a swallow of his beer. “I know what you’re getting at. We have been through the pits. But they’re no one else I’d rather have gone through the muck with but you, Fangs.”

“Agreed,” Fangs replied, and the two of them clanked their pint glasses in cheers.

“So,” Sweet Pea smirked, “I guess you could say I’m the love of your life.”

Fangs rolled his eyes. “Now who’s getting sappy?”

Sweet Pea leaned in toward the bar, looking down the counter line to grab Snake Eye’s attention. “Two shots of Jameson.”

When they were delivered, settled in front of the two boys by the corner end of the bar, Fangs picked his up and looked at it with confusion.

“What are these for?”

“To us,” Sweet Pea declared as he picked up his own shot, tipping it up to the bar ceiling, “and to the Wyrm. The best love story in all of Riverdale!”

After they both took their shots, blowing out the burn of the alcohol on their tongues, Fangs turned to face his friend. “So what do you think Reggie’s date looks like?”

“I can only imagine.” And the two of them resumed their laughter, sharing more shots and memories as the afternoon wore on.


	9. Polly & Jason

**Polly & Jason**

 

“Sam, put that down right now!” Polly Cooper-Blossom shouted from two rungs up a step ladder, leaning gently on a section of the Christmas tree as she worked to cover the top with an ornament. Her long blonde hair curled inward at the bottom as it draped down her blue sweater-covered back, swishing as she twisted on the ladder to reach a section of the tree closest to the wall. She watched as her son carefully set down a strand of broken round ornaments and ran off into the kitchen.

She stepped down to survey her hard work, a beautiful evergreen covered in green, red, and gold baubles and various homemade ornaments made by her and her sister when they were kids, and now by her very own children. The strands of lights twinkled pink and green, that magical hue of the holidays filling the living room with color and dazzle.

She felt a small tug on the leg of her denim jeans and looked down. Her daughter, Sally, was turned up to face her, the beautiful blue of her eyes mirroring her mother’s. She had the hint of a red punch mustache above her upper lip, but her teeth were bright white in her smile.

“Mommy, can we please make those cookies right now? Please? Please, please, please!”

Polly grinned down at her daughter and ran her hand down her long strawberry blonde hair, a perfect mixture of mother and father.

“It’s almost time, Sal. We just have to put the angel on top of the tree.”

“Ooh, ooh, it’s _my_ turn this year, mommy!” Her son, Sam, came bounding through the living room, skipping and hopping in the air with excitement. His red curly hair bounced with movement, his blue eyes glistening in the reflection of the tree lights.

“No, it’s _my_ turn!” Sally and Sam started to bicker, ending with Sam tugging on Sally’s hair and Polly calling for a cease fire.

“That’s enough, you two, or we won’t make any cookies for Santa, and without cookies and milk, he won’t put your gifts under the tree.”

Both children cowered a bit in fear, Sally letting a frightful “oh no!” escape her punch-colored lips.

“That’s right. You two have to get along, otherwise you’ll get put on the naughty list.”

“But, mommy, it’s Christmas Eve. Doesn’t Santa already know who’s good and bad? Hasn’t he already made the toys? He can’t go back on his word now!”

Polly couldn’t help but grin. Her little Sam was always so clever, it often caught her off guard. She had to think quickly. Kids always wanted answers fast, no matter how far-fetched the question.

“That’s true, baby, but it’s never too late for him to change his mind. Also, the elves make the toys, not Santa. His whole job is to make sure you stay a good little boy all year round.”

“And he hasn’t!” Sally crossed her arms across her chest and sent a pouty glare in her brother’s direction. Polly tried not to laugh – her daughter was most definitely the spunky one. She reminded her of her own sister, Betty, and sister-in-law Cheryl. Both women had sass, both women obvious influences on her daughter.

“I think both of my babies have been pretty good this year. Now, let’s put the angel on the tree. It’s actually dad’s turn this year so I will put the angel on for him.”

She reached into a box and pulled out a tall angel made of thin plastic and cotton balls, an ornament she had been given by her mother from generations before. It was delicate and light, wrapped in a thin sheet of bubble wrap for protection. She carefully pulled back the wrapping and stepped up onto the step ladder, reaching toward the very tip of the Christmas tree.

“You guys ready?”

“Yes!” they both exclaimed happily, their eyes glued to the ornament in her hand. She capped the tree tip with the rounded skirt of the angel, shoving it down just enough to make sure the ornament was secure. The kids shouted and cheered beneath her, jumping up and down in excitement. This was always their favorite part of the decorating – the enthusiastic finale before it was time to make and sample holiday treats.

Polly stepped off of the ladder and folded it up, tucking it back inside the coat closet in the living room. The entire space looked like a cozy winter wonderland. The fireplace was crackling, warm and inviting, and there were stockings hung on the mantle, four total. Polly smiled as she read the names backwards in age – Sally and Sam, Polly, and Jason, the latter dangling below a photo of a red-haired man in green and tan fatigues in front of an American flag.

Her husband had been shipped off for his second tour overseas sometime in the early summer. They did their best to communicate when they could, but it had been so difficult for Polly to raise the twins without the presence of another adult. It had helped when her mother Alice had opted to move back to Riverdale to help pick up the slack in Jason’s absence, but there was still nothing that could be done about the sting of missing the love of her life, the cold side of their king size bed that he used to occupy.

When Polly had been told that her husband was not going to be present for the holidays, it nearly broke her heart. Jason had promised that he would try to do what he could to get leave from his station to spend Christmas with them this year, but unfortunately his commander informed him two weeks before that his request had been denied, and instead Jason would be spending the holidays in the desert instead of snowy Riverdale.

Polly’s heart hurt so much every time she thought of a Christmas morning without her husband. The kids had been so disappointed when she told them he wasn’t going to be there. They kept asking if she thought Santa would bring daddy home as their Christmas gift, but she didn’t have the heart to tell them that the world just didn’t work that way. At five years of age, the twins wouldn’t understand anyway. As precocious as they were, there were just some matters that even adults couldn’t grasp, much less curious and questioning children. It was a harsh lesson in reality, but Polly promised she would do everything she could to ensure her kids had an extra special Christmas this year without Jason.

“Alright, kiddos – let’s head to the kitchen!” She wrangled them in toward the dining area, pulling two bar stools up to the kitchen island counter. She opened up the fridge and began removing the carton of eggs. “So what kind of cookies should we make? Sugar or snickerdoodle?”

“Both!” they both exclaimed. Polly laughed at their enthusiasm.

“I think we can do both. Sally, can you get the cookie cutters out of the second drawer over there?” She pointed to an area of the kitchen while she dug in the cabinets for flour, sugar, and vanilla extract. She compiled the rest of the ingredients and set them on the counter top. Together, the kids helped measure out the dry ingredients and pour them into a large bowl while Polly handled the wet. They joked and played, laughing uncontrollably when Sam rubbed flour under both of his eyes like war paint.

“Look, mommy! I’m tough, just like daddy.” Polly smiled, warmth spreading through her like a cup of steaming hot chocolate.

Not to be outdone, Sally exclaimed, “I want to look like daddy, too!” reaching into the container of flour to rub two streaks under her eyes. The kids slipped from their stools and began enacting a fight scene in the dining area across from the kitchen and Polly could only laugh as she watched them play, her hands buried beneath a mixture of dough in the bowl as she kneaded it to life.

Eventually, they got around to forming the cookies, rolling the dough out on a floured up counter top and cutting out shapes with tree, star, and Santa hat cookie cutters. The kids stared through the oven door as the cookies began to bake while Polly cleaned up their mess.

“How much longer, mommy?” Sally asked, her flour covered fingers pressed against the dark glass of the oven door.

“Not much longer, sweetheart. Why don’t you two go get cleaned up and get into your Christmas jammies? We can spend the afternoon eating cookies, drinking cocoa, and watching movies, how does that sound?”

The kids responded only in shouts, running out of the kitchen and up the staircase to their bedrooms. Polly looked down at her watch and saw they had about ten minutes left.

Jason had sent her an email the day before with a scheduled time for a Skype call – his chance to spend some of the holidays with his family, even if it was virtually. After removing the cookies from the oven, Polly walked down the hall to the master suite, giving herself a look over in the wide mirror of the bathroom. She brushed her hair, picking out a few rogue pieces of cookie dough that had managed to find a way into her locks. She reapplied a layer of mascara to make her eyes pop and changed out of her jeans into a pair of comfortable yoga pants.

When she came out of her room, the kids were snuggled up on the couch, fussing with the new toy they had opened that morning for Christmas Eve. Polly crossed to the desk that sat in the corner of the room and booted up the computer.

“You two want to come say hi to daddy?”

They both jumped off of the couch, throwing the blankets and their toys aside in their haste to join her by the computer. She logged into her Skype account and sat for a good two minutes, twirling pieces of Sam’s curly hair while Sally sidled into her lap. The familiar Skype ringtone erupted and Polly felt the butterflies in her stomach come alive. She clicked the “Accept” button and felt her breath disappear.

There on the screen was her husband, handsome in the tan cotton t-shirt of the Army uniform, his bold red hair uncovered and a little unruly. It was obvious he had woken up just to make this call and her heart hurt, wishing beyond measure that he was here with them.

“Merry Christmas, my loves!” His pearly white smile broke out, reaching up to the corners of his eyes.

“Merry Christmas, daddy!” Sally shouted, waving her little hand at the video on the screen.

“Daddy, we just did the tree. Can you see it? Santa is going to be so impressed!” Sam pointed somewhere off-screen where the Christmas tree stood.

Jason made an obvious craning motion with his neck, but Polly had to change the angle of the camera before he could physically see the tree in the corner of the room.

“You guys, that looks amazing! I’m so proud of you both.”

“We miss you daddy. Can you come home for Christmas?”

Jason’s smile faltered a bit as he stared at the misty-eyed little girl in the screen.

“Not this year, sugar. Daddy has to work. But I promise I’ll be there next year. I miss you both more than I could ever say.”

“More than presents?”

“Much, much more than presents.”

“Daddy, guess what I got for Christmas? I opened it this morning with mommy.”

“What is it, buddy?” Jason turned his attention to his son, who was practically bouncing on his toes.

“I got the brand new Super Friends Batbot Xtreme! It was a gift from Miss Gilmore next door. It’s so cool!”

“That sounds awesome buddy.”

“Let me show you!” Sam dashed off to retrieve his toy from the couch.

“What about you, princess?” Jason asked Sally.

Sally twirled a piece of her hair while she grinned. “I got the new Doc McStuffins Baby CeCe doll! You can even listen to her heart through the steposcope!”

“It’s a stethoscope, baby,” Polly corrected, grinning down at her daughter.

“And you can feed her too. She’s so cute, daddy.”

“That’s wonderful, angel. I can’t wait to see her.”

Sam rushed back to the desk, slightly out of breath. “Look, daddy – isn’t he so cool?!” Sam held the action figure up. It was almost as tall as him and bulky. “It even launches missiles from its arms. I’m going to make it defeat the Joker.”

“Wow, bud. That toy looks super cool!”

“Yeah – I’ll let you play with it when you come home.”

Jason smiled, feeling his heart crack a little at the sight of his children’s happy faces, missing them deeply.

“You’ve got it. Why don’t you and your sister go play and give mommy and me a minute, okay?”

Sam nodded and took Sally’s hand, helping her slide out of Polly’s lap. They both went running up the stairs to their rooms to play.

Jason looked at her and smiled warmly. “Hey baby.”

“Hey,” Polly replied, doing her best not to break down in tears. Her eyes were already beginning to water, on the verge of spilling. “I miss you so much, Jason.”

“I miss you too, baby. Damn, it’s so hard to see you and not be with you.”

Polly nodded, trying to stay strong. “I know. It’ll be better next year. And you’ll be home soon enough. We’ll have plenty of time to make up for you being gone when you get here.”

Jason nodded gently, biting his bottom lip. She looked so beautiful, even through the pixelated screen of the Skype call. Her hair was that soft blonde he loved, her eyes bright and blue, and that smile that took his breath away, wide and white, was painted on her face, just for him. She was wearing the sweater he had gotten her for Christmas last year, navy blue with a giant red heart on the front. It was sentimental and gentle and romantic – just like his wife.

“We’ve got a lot to make up for,” he teased suggestively, his eyebrows wiggling up and down.

Polly laughed, her cheeks erupting in a pink blush. It had been so long since she had flirted with her husband, most of their phone calls dominated by the presence of their children.

“I can’t wait.” She shot him a wink and smiled.

“So what are your plans for tonight?”

“The kids have that jubilee thing. They are so excited that they get to dance around on stage with Josie from Josie and the Pussycats, Sally especially. You know she loves her music so much. I got her one of the CDs for Christmas. I’m sure I’ll get really sick of listening to it in the car.”

Jason chuckled. “Make sure to videotape it. I’m sure they’ll have a blast.”

“Oh, no doubt. My mother is supposed to come and help them get ready tonight. It’s going to be a madhouse this evening, especially after all of the cookies and cocoa we’re going to have this afternoon.”

“How’s she doing?” Jason asked at the mention of Alice.

Polly sighed lightly. “She’s doing okay. She hasn’t said anything about dad, but I know it’s hard for her. I’m sure the kids are going to ask a lot of questions when he doesn’t show up tomorrow, but I’m sure she will have some good excuse to feed them.”

“I wish I was there to help you with that.”

Polly smiled softly. “Me too.”

Jason looked down at a timer on the computer and sighed. “Okay, baby, I’ve got to go. Tell the kids in the morning I said Merry Christmas and I love and miss them. And I love you, Polly – so damn much.”

“I love you too, Jason. Please be safe.”

“Always,” he replied. He blew her a kiss and she did the same before their call was disconnected. Immediately, Polly felt like crying, the absence of her husband causing her to ache painfully in her chest, but she could hear the sound of her kids bounding down the stairs and she told herself to pep up.

The three Cooper-Blossoms curled up on the couch, legs buried beneath a bundle of blankets, a plate of cookies balancing on Polly’s knees between them, and they got lost in the visually beautiful tale of a boy hitching a ride in search for Santa on the Polar Express.

As Polly fingered the strands of her daughter’s hair with a slow and steady stroke, her eyes glued to the screen as her children inhaled and exhaled softly, the signs of a sugar crash nap, she reminded herself of the blessings she still had right in her hands. The void left behind by her deported husband left a part of her heart feeling hollow and empty, but the joy provided by her boisterous children, the very ones she made with her husband, sparkled around that void, filling it with a light she couldn’t describe.

She slipped into a peaceful afternoon slumber not long after, her son and daughter cuddled up beside her, cocooning her in a shield of holiday warmth and love that helped to keep the loneliness at bay.


	10. Josie & Chuck

**Josie & Chuck**

 

“Absolutely unacceptable, Ethel. Unacceptable! How am I supposed to perform in front of this auditorium full of people if the light is shining right in my eyes? And what’s the deal with this stage? Are we going to have these boards repaired before tonight or not?”

Josie McCoy stood tall and foreboding on the lip of the auditorium stage of Riverdale Junior High. Her curly black hair was tied up into a braided bun and her yellow two-inch heel clicked painfully on the hardwood of the stage. Her arms were crossed over her chest, a microphone clutched in her right hand. At the moment, her rich chocolate brown eyes were boring into another woman sitting in one of the auditorium seats, a clipboard in her hand as her fingers shook with anxiety.

“Totally understandable, Josie. I can speak to Chuck about the light. And the floor boards! I’m not sure with the time we’re working with if they can make that fix, but maybe we can put a rug down or something for safety.”

“Ethel, a rug will not do under high heels. That’s a disaster just waiting to happen.” Josie threw her hands up into the air, frustrated. _Why was nobody getting it? She was doing them a favor. She was taking time out of her enormously busy cross-country tour to perform for this Christmas jubilee in the middle of nowhere New York._

The woman named Ethel, a short girl with rounded hips and tight curly brown hair, fussed with the lapels of her blue cardigan as she stood and approached the edge of the stage.

“Josie, listen to me. You are fabulous. You are wonderful. You are a gift to these people here in this sleepy little town. No amount of floor fixed or flashing lights is going to make up for the fact that you’re doing them a favor. But it’s the holidays, and you’re just singing a few songs. Let’s just try and get through this and then you can go back to being the star you are and get out of Riverdale.”

Josie exhaled heavily. “You would think the staff here would recognize that and be a little more accommodating.” She started to pace around the back area of the stage, assessing the space.

“I’ll talk to Chuck, see what I can do. In the meantime, why don’t you have a seat? I’ll get you a hot tea.”

“With lemon,” Josie clarified, her arms folding back across her chest.

Ethel held her tongue, pursing her lips and nodding instead. “Of course.”

Josie watched her manager hike up the auditorium row toward the door where she stepped through and disappeared.

Looking around, Josie could see the areas of the cavernous space that had changed since she attended school here years ago. The border of the stage had been repaired, cracks in the plaster wall patched up over time with discolored swatches of color from mismatched paint. The lighting instruments above her were new, the obvious bulk of the theatre department’s yearly budget dangling above her with different colored gels specific to this jubilee. A few of the seats in the audience had been reupholstered, but overall the space had that same vibe of familiarity Josie remembered from when she was young.

She had found her voice here on this stage, bellowing out an old Etta James tune during the seventh grade talent show. Her mother had been so proud, a rare moment in Josie’s childhood. The crowd had been overtaken with surprise, the large voice of a petite black girl echoing around the rows of parents and fellow students. They all stood and cheered and she felt the first flush of stardom race across her cheeks.

Fame was a drug, even in a small town, and when Josie had gotten her big break senior year of high school, she was a full-blown addict.

Throughout the past decade, Josie had traveled across the U.S. and the greater cities of the world, carrying her soprano tune with two other ladies who stood in as instrumentalists. She had signed hundreds of autographs, taken thousands of photographs, but like most drugs, fame still left her feeling empty inside.

Standing back here in the halls of her old stomping grounds, she felt that comforting warmth of nostalgia and it had filled the gaps in her heart that were missing when she was on the road. Despite her protestations, there was a great part of Josie that was happy to be back, honored to have the chance to perform in front of her home town for children waiting to be inspired.

As she was waltzing down memory lane, her attention caught on the reverie of how good it had felt once being one of the queens of Riverdale High, she was momentarily blinded by another flash of strong white light coming from one of the beams above the audience seating.

“Excuse me,” she cried, shielding her eyes from the light. “Are you trying to kill my eyesight?”

“Sorry,” a booming male voice replied from above, and the light was quickly moved to the side of her, bathing the other half of the stage in its shine. “I’m just trying to program the rest of these lights before the show tonight. It’s becoming more hassle than it might be worth.”

“Speak for yourself. Anyone who comes tonight will be treated to the finest Josie McCoy has to offer. No less. Now, if only we could get the lights and this busted up floor to cooperate.”

She heard a scoff come from the beams. “Well, this is Riverdale’s finest, and you’d better be happy with it. It’s all we’ve got to work with so you should try to make the best of it.”

“No sir. You do not ask the mountain to come to you, you come to the mountain.”

“And you’re the mountain, I’m guessing?”

Josie gestured around the empty stage. “Do you see any other star here offering up their holiday to perform for this town? As far as you’re concerned, I’m Mount Vesuvius.”

“Well, I better watch out before you blow.”

Josie rolled her eyes, cursing under her breath as she stomped off the stage. She needed to find Ethel and get her hot tea. Hot tea always soothed her frazzled nerves, and there was something about the insufferable voice from above that had her feathers ruffled in irritation.

As she rounded a corner backstage, she bumped hard into the chest of a man, his skin dark and smooth and firm, covered by a dark teal t-shirt with grease stains smeared across it. She grabbed him by the arms for balance, and when she gathered her wits she realized his biceps were sculpted and strong, skin warm to the touch and a bit sweaty. When her eyes made their way up his body, she found a mouth of white teeth, opened up by lips that smirked, and eyes of molten chocolate that held amusement in their gleam.

“Like what you see, Vesuvius?”

Josie shook the lust from her thoughts and stepped back, releasing his arms from her grasp. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

The guy sneered and looked her up and down, not-so-subtly. “I’m Chuck Clayton, the main stagehand of this operation. Apparently, you wanted me to come to you.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant, but I have a feeling you know that.”

He chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest, causing the muscles of his pecs to bulge out slightly much to Josie’s excitement and irritation. “What can I do to help you? Ethel told me you might have some _suggestions_ for me.”

Josie settled her weight back with one leg behind the other, striking a formidable pose. “I do. Those pieces of old rotten floorboard are a walking twisted ankle waiting to happen, and I will _not_ injure myself performing in some Podunk New York town when I have a whole nationwide tour ahead of me next week.”

“Uh huh, and what do you suggest I do with the limited time we have? Raze the whole damn thing and start over?”

“You look capable.”

“I’m flattered,” he replied dryly. “But I’m not a miracle worker. We can put some rugs down or something, hide the holes from sight.”

“Rugs will not do. I’ll be wearing heels and they will snag on the carpet. Can’t you just patch them up with more wood?”

“No, it doesn’t work that way, princess.”

“Then figure something out. I can’t perform under the current conditions. It’s a safety violation.”

“This is a high school, not Madison Square Garden.”

“And I’m Josie McCoy. There’s only one of me and I cannot be compromised because you’ve allowed this place to fall apart. Find some way to get the stage fixed by tonight.”

Chuck stared back at her blankly, his expression unchanging as he looked upon her with that same gleam of amusement in his eye.

“Fine,” he replied before taking a step back and turning around casually, choosing to walk off in another direction away from Josie.

 _The nerve of that woman,_ he thought to himself as he stalked off, doing his best to appear cool and unfazed but feeling frazzled all the same. It was Christmas Eve, and the big Jubilee was nearly upon them. On top of programming the lights for the show, he also had to test the soundboard and check the mics, sweep off the stage, and now he had to add a list of demands made by the haughty Miss McCoy.

He couldn’t deny, however, the appeal that she carried. She was a fine looking woman, her round eyes bold to match that brash personality of hers. He had to admit her confidence was alluring. The way she carried herself, even if a bit arrogant and cocky, struck him as fierce, strong, the independent type he was often intensely attracted to.

 _Predictable old Chuck,_ he shook his head. He reached for the railing of the spiral staircase that led to the upper beams and hoisted himself up, taking the steps two at a time, anxious to get down to his laundry list of to-do tasks in an effort to clear his thoughts of the irritating, yet enticing Josie McCoy.

 

 

 _The nerve of that asshole,_ Josie cursed to herself as she slammed the door to her dressing room, a makeshift area Ethel had created out of the green room waiting area regularly used backstage by cast members. A large mirror had been set up, peppered with bright round bulbs perfect for applying makeup for the stage, and Josie settled herself in the salon chair in front of it.

She couldn’t believe how ungrateful the staff of the venue was acting. Didn’t they know how important she was? Didn’t they know how hard she had worked to get to where she was? She started out performing on stages like this one, pouring her allowance into musical equipment and turning friendship into business as her two best gal pals had quickly become bandmates, soon before turning into ex-friends.

When Josie branched off on her own, a solo act shedding the dead weight of two other performers with far less ambition than she had, the struggle had really begun. Her mother, a former Mayor of Riverdale, used her clout as far as she could but eventually Josie grew tired riding the coattails of her mother. She struck out on her own, priding herself on being just like her father – a struggling musician who bounced from club to club, peddling the perfection of her voice for a taste of success… and the wages to fund her next meal.

Eventually, her hard work had paid off and she landed a gig with a powerful record company, catching the eye of a well-known producer one night at a downtown cabaret in New York City. From then on out, it was like living in the fairy tale of her own making, five-star hotels and expensive tour buses, champagne in the limo and good seats at the award shows.

But it came with a price. It all came with a price.

She stared back at her reflection in the mirror, the worry lines and exhaustion beginning to show between the cracks of her makeup.

_Are you happy with your life? Are you happy with who you’ve become?_

She couldn’t deny the perks of her lifestyle had paid off, but the loneliness that came with being a diva was so painful sometimes it was nearly palpable. Sure, she had Ethel, but she knew the love there was fake, superficial. She had Ethel’s loyalty, but not her respect. Ethel stayed for the paycheck and for the promise of the exposure that might come with Josie’s success. They hadn’t even been friends back in high school. It shouldn’t shock Josie to know they weren’t friends as adults either.

And then there was the state of her love life. Nonexistent. Bleak. A deserted wasteland with absolutely no prospects. Josie couldn’t even remember the last time she had been physically touched by a man, much less kissed one on the mouth. There wasn’t even a man in her life she could think about kissing.

_What about Chuck?_

“Well, what about Chuck?” she asked herself aloud. Her reflection had no answer.

She recalled how it felt to touch his arms through the thin material of his t-shirt, the warmth of his smooth skin, the sinewy texture of his biceps with their muscle and might. His lips were pillowy, fluffy and plump and just the right size for nibbling… were she into that kind of thing.

She couldn’t help but think how attractive he was even if his attitude sucked. He was stubborn and proud, and it amazed her how his defiance surprisingly turned her on. He was quick with a retort, sharp even though he looked like a hand-me-down, a bit rough around the edges and not unfamiliar with hard labor.

She had to admit he was probably a bit fearless, spending his time all day up in the beams with that heavy equipment, high up away from safe ground. That kind of life must be exhilarating even if simple. She wondered if it brought the same rush to him as standing before an audience gave to her. It also intrigued her that he didn’t bow to her every whim, that he was unfazed by the fact that she was famous. He treated her, well, just like any other person.

And she had treated him horribly, she knew it. She recalled the awful way she had demanded the changes to the stage and cringed at herself. Sure, she didn’t regret asking for her needs to be met. After all, safety above all else. However, she knew she had sounded harsh and aggressive, two traits she worked really hard not to be.

Looking at herself in the mirror once more, she couldn’t help but wonder who she was, and if that girl from Riverdale was truly still inside there or if she had allowed the prideful fact that she had overcome her obstacles to go to her head.

“Three hours until curtain,” Ethel announced, popping her head into the dressing room. “Chuck’s also working on the stage as we speak.”

Josie smiled a bit to herself, one side of her mouth perking up with surprise. “Thanks Ethel,” she mumbled quietly. She reached for her makeup brush and told herself _the show must go on_ as she dabbed powdered foundation over her cheeks.

 

 


	11. Riverdale Christmas Jubilee

**Riverdale Christmas Jubilee**

 

“But mom,” Sam whined, doing his best to pull away out of his mother’s reach, wary of her hands as she tried to aggressively smooth out the top of his head. “I don’t care what my hair looks like.”

“That’s fine, Sam, but I care. I don’t want people thinking I have a rag-a-muffin for a son. Plus, you won’t be able to see your elf ears clearly if your hair is covering them.”

Sam finally tugged himself free of her grasp, reaching up with his own hands to finger the pair of elf ears on the headband he wore, checking to see if they felt taller than the pieces of hair that were sticking up. He didn’t want to show how excited he was to perform in the program, but inside he was nervous and filled with butterflies.

“Mom, do you think Miss Josie will sign my dolly?” Sally asked, holding up the Doc McStuffins doll she had been clinging to all evening.

“I’m sure she will, honey. She’s your aunt’s best friend, after all. But you mustn’t hound her for it. She has a big job tonight, and so do you.” Polly stepped back to observe her children, both of them dressed in green elf costumes, their shockingly bright red hair nearly covering the green headband that donned the elf ears. She had painted freckles on their cheeks with a bit of her eyeliner, little circles of red on their cheeks with her blush, to give them the appearance of rosy, cheery elves.

“You two look so precious,” she proclaimed, tears welling up in her eyes. “Your daddy would be so proud.”

“Can we go play with our friends now, mommy?” Sally asked, pointing to her best friend Karen across the room. “I want to show Karen my new dolly.”

Polly nodded, calling out “not so fast!” when her children took off in a mad dash, running across the auditorium toward their friends.

“They look so good, Polly. You did a great job with the costumes,” Alice commented, joining Polly with two programs in her hand. “I can’t wait to see them perform, and with Josie McCoy of all people. I can’t believe Jason has to miss this.”

“I bought new tape for the camcorder. I’m going to try and send him a copy. I know he’s really bummed he had to miss this. Miss us.” Polly sighed sadly. “I had really hoped he was going to get time off for this Christmas.”

“I know you did,” Alice comforted, rubbing her daughter’s arm consolingly. “But let’s not think too much about what we’re missing and focus on tonight. I’ll get us some seats. I want a good view of my angels.”

Polly smiled and nodded, following her mother through the crowds of people to search for the best available seats in the auditorium.

“Merry Christmas, Leroy!” Jellybean proclaimed when the video connected, moving the phone in a slow panoramic motion. “Welcome to the Riverdale Jubilee!”

“What do you mean?” Leroy asked, trying to make out familiar faces through the screen.

“This is your Christmas gift. I know how much you wanted to be here, but because of your stupid cancer you can’t. So I’m bringing the Jubilee to you this year. You won’t miss a thing, I promise! I already scoped out the best seat in the house and I’m going to catch the whole thing on the camera. All you have to do is stay connected.”

“Really?” Leroy asked, wonder in his voice.

Jellybean nodded with a big smile, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “You’re welcome, buddy. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Jellybean!”

Toward the back of the auditorium, Fangs and Sweet Pea shuffled through the legs of the patrons, trying to get to the middle of the back row for a good view.

“What are we even doing here, Fangs? I am way too drunk to be at a school function.”

Fangs laughed as he and Sweet Pea plopped down in their seats. “Relax, man. That Josie McCoy chick is going to be performing, and she’s, like, super famous. Plus, she’s super hot.”

“Whatever you say, man,” Sweet Pea replied, looking to the right and left of them at the other audience members, one old lady giving him a nasty expression. “This place just fills me with paranoia. I’m worried old Mr. Hubble is going to show up any minute now to wring our necks and shove us into detention.”

“At least it’s not Weatherbee. I don’t think that dude knew how to smile to save his life. Absolutely no chill.”

“Places!” Ethel called out from the stage. “Can we have all of our performers backstage to line up?”

Sam and Sally waved to Polly as they climbed the stairs to the stage, their mother and grandmother waving back proudly as they waited with anticipation. Behind the curtain, the kids all lined up in rows of five, chattering to each other about their homemade costumes and comparing elf ears.

Ethel did her best to wrangle them up and keep them quiet, promising them all gift bags and pictures with Josie after the program, which only served to heighten the excitement of the children. Josie peeked out from behind the curtain, her usual round of nerves hitting her stomach like they did before each performance. She did well at not showing them, but they affected her all the same.

When she looked out over the small bit of stage she could see from her hole in the curtain, she noticed one of the holes she had nearly twisted her foot in earlier had been patched up, the gleam of new wood and lacquer shining obviously from the stage lights. Instantly, the nerves were replaced with a smile.

Chuck had fixed the stage like she had asked. She figured if she asked him outright, he’d deny it, a thought that made her roll her eyes. But still, he had heeded her worries. Her chest squeezed lightly, a lump of excitement and something else less familiar forming in her throat.

When she looked over to her right, a movement catching her eye by the side stage, she could see Chuck standing beside the curtain lever.

She mouthed the words “thank you” to him, offering a smile as well, and he smirked.

“Welcome,” he mouthed back.

“This is absolutely crazy,” Veronica whispered as she and Archie dodged random poles and pieces of equipment behind the second curtain toward the far back of the stage. They had snuck in through the back entrance, Archie worried he had arrived too late to the program, too preoccupied with flirting with Veronica at dinner to keep track of time.

“What’s life without a little crazy, duchess?” Archie teased, leading her through the rubble with an outstretched hand, which she took gratefully.

“Sane,” she replied. “Not complicated.”

“I have a hard time believing you don’t bring a little complicated to life yourself. You’re not exactly low maintenance.”

They had managed to make it through the obstacle course of equipment, stopping just shy of the curtain partition. Archie adjusted the guitar that was slung around his shoulders, pushing the instrument behind him. “Yeah, well, I think you make judgments too quickly, red.”

He pivoted around and pressed a finger to her lips, gesturing for her to be quiet, but both of them were left stunned with silence realizing how close they were standing. He could feel the urge to lean in, could see she was fighting it too, when all of a sudden there was a giant roar from the crowd.

“One sec, shit,” he whispered. “I think they’re about to go on.”

“Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the Annual Riverdale Christmas Jubilee,” Mayor McCoy called out to the audience from the podium on one of the stage wings. “We have a very special treat for you all tonight to kick off the festivities. I’d like to welcome back to this stage, my daughter, the extremely talented and incandescent Josie McCoy and her band of merry elves to sing a Christmas classic ‘All I Want For Christmas’!”

The band began to pick up, a simple chime signaling the first bars of the song, followed by the cymbals and the bell. The front curtain parted, revealing a silver bedazzled Josie in a festive dress, her hair pulled back in a bun with a silver netting around the top, and from her mouth came the most angelic voice.

_I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need. I don’t care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree. I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know. Make my wish come true. All I want for Christmas issss…. Yooouuu!_

As the band took off, the children began to dance onto the stage in their rows, their hands waving back and forth as their little hips shook. They began their choreographed moves, smiling with pasty white smiles, freckles and red cheeks galore as it seemed every parent had the same idea Polly had.

_I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need. I don’t care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree. I don’t need to hang my stocking there upon the fireplace. Santa Clause won’t make me happy with a toy on Christmas Day._

“Excuse me, excuse me,” Kevin mumbled as he tried to push his way past the series of legs in the auditorium row. He motioned to his dad, who was sitting next to the mayor, the two of them holding hands as the band performed.

“Sorry I’m late,” Kevin grumbled as he took the seat they had been saving for him.

“Finishing up some last minute shopping?” Kevin’s dad asked.

“You could say that.”

_I just want you for my own more than you could ever know. Make my wish come true. All I want for Christmas is you. You baby._

Chuck could only watch in awe as Josie moved effortlessly about the stage, careful not to get in the way of the anxious and excited children as they danced around like happy little elves. She was breathtaking, beautiful in her own right and marvelous to behold.

It had taken him all afternoon to fix up the old floorboards of the stage, but it had been worth it to see her mouth words of thanks backstage. Plus, he had to admit the stage looked a lot better with her suggested improvements. Maybe there was some good to be had from their encounter after all.

_Oh I won’t ask for much this Christmas. I won’t even wish for snow. And I’m just gonna keep on waiting underneath the mistletoe. I won’t make a list and send it to the North Pole for Saint Nick. I won’t even stay awake to hear those magic reindeer click._

Polly looked on with tears in her eyes as her children danced about happily, so proud to see them so cheery despite the turn of events this Christmas. It had killed her to know their father was missing out on this. Jason was a good dad and wanted to be a part of their lives so deeply.

Instead of letting her emotions get the best of her, however, she tried to keep her tears in check and hold the camera still, desperate to capture every moment so Jason would get to share in the memories she was making right now with her kids.

_‘Cause I just want you here tonight holding on to me so tight. What more can I do? Baby, all I want for Christmas is you, you baby!_

“This shit is lit,” Sweet Pea called out, laughing beside his best friend who was mesmerized by the singer on stage. “That chick can really sing!”

“There’s no way in Hell Reggie ever hit that. She’s clearly way above his league.”

“Agreed,” Sweet Pea nodded, also captivated by the show. “That loser could never bag a badass with a voice like that.”

_Oh, all the lights are shining so brightly everywhere. And the sound of children’s laughter fills the air. And everyone is singing. I hear those sleigh bells ringing. Santa, won’t you bring me the one I really need? Won’t you please bring my baby to me?_

“Isn’t it awesome, Leroy? She’s so talented,” Jellybean shouted into the video as she turned it back toward her. On the other line, Leroy nodded.

“This _is_ awesome, JB. Thank you for letting me watch like this. I feel like I’m really there.”

Jellybean blushed, quickly turning the camera back toward the stage.

_Oh, I don’t want a lot for Christmas. This is all I’m asking for. I just want to see my baby standing right outside my door. Oh, I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know. Make my wish come true! Baby, all I want for Christmas… is…._

Archie removed his finger from Veronica’s lips, the goosebumps spread across his skin from the song freezing him in place, his eyes lingering on the sight of her mouth. Above them, the reflection of the lights sparkled like silver stars, illuminating them both in a shower of festive color and brightness.

She looked so beautiful, so elegant and yet so vulnerable beneath the light, her brown eyes staring back at his awaiting lips.

His hand came up to cradle her cheek, her eyes slowly shut, and he leaned in to press his warm lips against her inviting ones.

_YOU!_

Caught up in the heat of their kiss, Veronica’s foot stumbled backward and got trapped in the hem of the curtain, triggering the whole thing to pull down and snap open, revealing them to the entire audience.

The children all turned around at the noise, distracted by the sight of two people kissing to continue dancing. The crowd all stood up to get a better view while Josie continued singing.

_All I want for Christmas is you, baby. All I want for Christmas is you, baby. All I want for Christmas is you, baby. All I want for Christmas is you, baby._

When Josie finally noticed there was something going on behind her, she swiveled around to see Veronica and Archie still tangled up in their kiss, unaware of what was going on around them. When there was a sound of shock, followed by silence, they broke apart and turned to see they had been discovered.

For a moment, they were both stunned, lips red from being mashed together, cheeks even redder from the flush of their kiss and the embarrassment of being caught in front of the entire town. Then, when Archie had recovered, he laughed and grabbed Veronica’s hand, holding it high for everyone to see.

“Merry Christmas, everybody!”

Suddenly, everyone clapped, their kiss the perfect crescendo to the beautiful song Josie had just finished. Whether or not they thought it was planned, the crowd hooted and hollered, some even whistled, and Veronica could only look at Archie in awe.

“Let’s give them an encore, shall we?”

Before he knew it, she grabbed his face and kissed him again, deeply and proudly, earning an even louder whoop from the audience.

When it was time for Archie to take the stage, Veronica claimed a seat in the very front row by an excited little girl who seemed romanticized by the whole ordeal. Veronica smiled at her and watched with beaming proud eyes as Archie began to croon.

His voice was melodic, smooth and soft and strong all at the same time. She could feel it reach into her soul and tug down deep, filling her with warmth from her toes to her scalp to her heart. She could feel it beat faster, could sense the goosebumps forming on her skin.

She didn’t know if she could blame it on the season or blame it on his singing, but in that moment she felt like she could fall head over heels for this man with a smile that could charm crowds and a heart that could melt even the coldest icicle.

 _There are some gifts you just can’t buy from a store,_ she thought to herself. _Some gifts are the kind we offer others from the goodness of our hearts._


	12. Betty & Jughead Pt. 2

**Betty & Jughead Pt. 2**

 

They pulled up to a cabin surrounded by pines a few short minutes after they had left the bar, the tires crunching through the snow along the long drive through an expansive field seen from the road. The building looked cozy enough, a pile of neatly arranged wooden logs formed into a one-story cottage with a frosted roof of icicles and three inches of deep white powder.

Jughead carried her luggage from the trunk of his Subaru hatchback to the front door, setting it down to pull the keys from his coat. He unlocked it and pushed it back for Betty to enter, following shortly behind.

The interior was homey if not a bit empty. There were a few pictures scattered here and there, but mostly of exterior shots, some trees and beaches, all places Jughead had been and taken photos of. He didn’t think it necessary to decorate the space completely. He only spent a few months of the year there during the winter season, the few weekends where he was free of his sister and he had all the available time to escape and write away from the noise and responsibility of the town.

He set her suitcase down and stomped the residual snow from his foots. “The light switches are over by the kitchen,” he pointed for her before crossing to the fireplace. He grabbed a couple of logs and maneuvered them into the burner, striking a match from the matchbook nearby and tossing it on the logs.

After a few minutes of tending, a fire was roaring to life, sending puffs of warm white smoke into the living room. Jughead stood, inspecting the fire that he had built, as he heard Betty roll her suitcase into the room behind him.

He turned to face her. “If you’d rather sleep in the bedroom, I’m perfectly fine camping out on the couch. The bed’s probably a lot more comfortable than this creaky old thing.”

She shook her head. “I couldn’t impose. You’re doing me a favor by even letting me stay here.”

“Well, it wouldn’t do to let you freeze. Call it the Christmas spirit,” he chuckled.

The space between them, the large living room filled with nothing but a simple couch, a coffee table, and a fireplace, suddenly felt small and crowded.

All Jughead could think about was having Betty in his bed. While they had been in the bar, sharing stories and ordering drink after drink, he couldn’t help but notice how charming and beautiful she was. Her cheeks had grown red from the alcohol and from her laughter, the sound coming from her pretty mouth melodious and heartwarming. She had this kind of disposition that was soft and delicate, but she still seemed formidable enough that he trusted her to be independent. He believed that she could hold her own, and that sort of contrast was completely appealing to Jughead.

He didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable, though. He was aware of how the entire situation could look – a woman staying at the house of a strange man, cut off from society in the middle of the woods away from the main road. He wouldn’t want her to question the whole thing or think for a minute that he held her obligated to some unspoken agreement while she stayed there.

“You, uh,” Betty started, clearing her throat as she stared at the ground. “You don’t have to sleep on the couch. We could, just… share the bed.”

Jughead froze to his spot, his questioning eyes peering at her from across the room. “What do you mean?”

“I just mean we can both be comfortable tonight. It is Christmas Eve, after all. No one should wake up Christmas morning with a bad back.”

“You, uh, you make a good point.”

“Yes,” she replied, and the silence returned.

“I wouldn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” Jughead said after a beat.

“You wouldn’t,” she replied, biting her bottom lip nervously. “You said you didn’t want me to freeze, after all. Two in the bed just means more warmth.”

“Another good point made,” he replied, kicking at a piece of dirt on the ground with his boot, looking down nervously at the floorboards. “I’ll just go change in the bathroom. You can change in the bedroom.”

He made to cross the living room into the kitchen, his boots stomping against the bare ground, but he was stopped with Betty’s hand on his arm.

“Wait,” she piped up, freezing him to the spot. He looked up at her, caught in the gleam of interest and lust in her eyes. He could feel his skin burst aflame with heat, his stomach erupt in butterflies, his body with adrenaline as it coursed through his veins at her simple touch, palm against arm.

“I don’t do this very often, or really at all,” she laughed to herself nervously, “but I’d like to kiss you. We only have a few days left in the year. Isn’t now the time to make spontaneous decisions, do something you wouldn’t normally do?”

“I guess so,” he replied, the anticipation building in his bones.

“It’s just that all that time at the bar, I couldn’t help but look at your lips and wonder what they might be like to touch, to taste. I know I just met you, but I feel oddly comfortable around you. Maybe it’s silly.”

“Not at all. I know what you mean.”

Her eyes locked onto his. “I’ve already asked so much of you tonight. Would it be too much to ask to kiss you?”

He shook his head slowly. “No. I think I’d like that.”

She nodded, her eyes moving down from his eyes to his lips as she licked her own in preparation. Slowly, ever so slowly, she leaned in.

When their mouths met, two nervous pairs of lips pressing together for the first time, it was like a wall had been torn down, the floodgates opened to let the passion in. They got swept away in it, their lips moving suddenly and deeply, mashing together as Betty’s arms came up to wrap around his neck.

She could feel Jughead’s hands roam from her sides down to her bottom, where he lifted, hoisting her up in the air, allowing her to wrap her limbs fully around him as they deepened the kiss. With a couple of clumsy first steps, he managed to walk them both back into the bedroom, shoving the door open to allow entry before slamming it back shut, closing out the world from the intimacy they had shared in what he once considered a very lonely space.

 

 

It was just after midnight when they found themselves tangled up in the sheets of the bedroom, the warmth from the living room fire finally reaching them as they nestled together naked and satisfied. Jughead stroked the skin of her arm, his own cradled beneath her neck as she burrowed closer to him, her palm resting comfortably on his bare chest.

“I have to say that’s probably one of the better Christmas gifts I’ve ever received,” she teased, earning a hearty chuckle from her companion, his stomach moving up and down with the laughter.

“I can’t think of anything I’ve ever received that topped that. Maybe if the Grinch got laid more often, he wouldn’t hate the holiday so much.”

“Oh, definitely,” Betty agreed, joining in the laughter.

“I’m really glad I met you, Betty,” Jughead added, his tone suddenly becoming more somber. “Christmas isn’t usually a holiday I look forward to much.”

“Is it because of your dad?”

He paused before explaining, “Yes. He didn’t make this time of year too fun for me as a teenager.”

She waited with bated breath before she pried, “Would it be too much to ask what happened?”

He sighed, sliding his arm out from under her neck to settle on his stomach, his other coming up to cradle the back of his head. “My dad’s a drunk, a real mean one at that. He thought it was better to blow his money on alcohol than gifts for his children. It got to the point where he’d disappear for days on end, leaving my sister and me to fend for ourselves, before he’d finally return.”

“Did he ever try to get help?”

“Sure, several times. He’d show up one day out from the cave of his bedroom, clean shaven, with promises of a better future, of being a better man for his kids. He’d make these grand statements about winning my mother back, about being the kind of man his kids could rely on, but they were all bullshit. He’d just get drunk a day later and piss away any kind of sober commitment he had made the day before. When I was finally of legal age, after one particularly bad bender, I took my sister out of that disgraceful situation and we got a place for ourselves on the other side of town.”

“That must have been extremely frustrating.”

“It was,” Jughead replied with a thoughtful tone. “It was very hard to deal with. I was 18, taking care of a little girl who was practically still a toddler. It wasn’t a job I signed up for, but I made do. We made do.”

After another long pause, Jughead continued, “I don’t really talk about this kind of stuff with anybody.”

“I’m sorry I pried.”

“It’s okay. It’s just… well… you feel so easy to talk to. Despite my profession, I’m really not much of an open book, but with you I feel so comfortable. You make it easy to open up and that’s unfamiliar to me. I’m just used to people hurting me so I pretty much stay guarded. Archie’s the only one I feel I can trust.”

She smoothed out a stretch of skin along his arm in a soothing pattern, resting her cheek on his bicep. She had to admit it felt natural being this close to him too. It had been so long since she had felt any sort of connection with anybody. She was amazed at how quickly it had come with Jughead. Being with him in bed, only hours after meeting him, somehow felt… right. She couldn’t explain it, but she was grateful it had sounded like he was feeling it too.

“I’ve always been known to be a great listener,” she replied. “And I haven’t always felt like I belonged because of it, too busy giving advice to others to take my own words of wisdom. I never had a normal life, not when compared to the cheerleaders and brainiacs in my school.”

“I’m surprised. I would have thought you’d be the most popular girl in school. You just seem so –“

“Please do not say ‘perfect.’ My dad used to call me his perfect little princess, and I just don’t think the title fits. I used to work so hard to bear that crown but it doesn’t suit. I don’t think I could ever live up to that expectation and I got really tired trying to.”

“I’m sorry,” Jughead replied, worried he had created a divide in what was just a harmonious union in that cabin bed.

“No, it’s not your fault, Jug. Again, cheers to shitty dads.”

“Do you think you can ever forgive him?”

“Do you?”

They laid in silence for a good minute or so, long enough for Jughead to contemplate her words. For too long, he had been angry at his father, angry at the conditions he and his sister had been left to deal with. Having a mother who only half-cared and a father who was more than half-drunk all the time, it had been up to Jughead to take on the lion’s share of raising his sibling.

 _Jellybean turned out alright,_ he told himself as he laid there. She was precocious and bright, caring and funny and sharp as a tack. She was clever like him in many ways and fiercely loyal. They may not have lived under the best circumstances, but he damn sure did his best to make sure she had everything she needed to have a fulfilled life like everyone else.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “I don’t know if I even feel mad about it anymore, not really. My sister is a good person, no thanks to either of them, and she doesn’t hold a grudge. Maybe I should take a lesson from her and just try to move on.”

“It had to have been hard, though. Raising a little girl on your own when you shouldn’t have had to. I can’t imagine how tough that was.” Betty tipped her chin up at him, her green eyes shining with admiration. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. I can see it.”

He looked back down at her, blue eyes meeting green in the dark illuminated by the moonlight reflecting off the snow outside, and in that moment he felt like he could fall in love with her.

“Thank you, Betty.”

He leaned in toward her, their lips meeting softly in the middle as they kissed away their worries and found comfort in their similarities. They spent the rest of the night tangled up in each other, laughing and kissing, connecting and wishing silently as they drifted off to sleep that the night didn’t have to end.

 

 

Jughead lifted her luggage and shoved it in the back of his car, slamming the trunk door back down with a loud thud. Betty waddled through the snow to open the passenger side door, turning back one last time to look at the cabin where she had spent what was arguably the best night of her life.

After locking up the cabin, Jughead joined her, sliding into the driver seat before shutting his door hard, knocking residual ice and snow off the top of the car.

They drove in silence, only the soft sound of Christmas tunes coming from the radio to keep them from the absolute quiet. The entire drive, Jughead kept running ideas through his mind, brainstorming any possibility that this thing between them could continue beyond last night. He didn’t want it to end.

The truth that he hadn’t wanted to admit to himself was evident as day – he had never connected with anyone like he had connected with Betty. One night with her had felt like a lifetime that was full and not enough all at once. He wanted more, needed more, in a way he had never experienced before with any other woman. She had gotten him to open up about the painful parts of his heart he hadn’t even shared with Archie, the magic of her spell and her warm spirit.

Being with her had opened him up to the prospect of forgiveness again, a thought that hadn’t occurred to him once since his fallout with his father. He couldn’t let her go, but he had no right to keep her. He had to find some way to convince her to see him again, but the fear of feeling too much, the worry she may not have felt that much herself, filled him with nervous dread.

When they pulled up across the road from her car, the tires completely covered in snow, the silence in the car grew to epic decibels. Outside, the tow truck was just pulling up, a burly gentleman in the front seat smoking from a cigarette as a means to keep warm as he worked to put the truck in reverse.

“I guess I need to go take care of this,” Betty finally spoke. “Thank you… for the car ride and for last night. I appreciate you taking me in.”

“Of course,” he replied quickly, too quickly, and he suddenly ran out of things to say.

“Well, Merry Christmas Jughead,” she said, taking off her seat belt. She leaned in toward him and pressed a kiss against his cheek. When she leaned back into her seat, reaching over to pull the lever to open the car door, she paused.

“111 Elm Street,” she muttered. “If you find yourself in my neighborhood later.”

And with that, she shoved herself out of the car door and slammed it shut. He could hear her open up the trunk to pull out her suitcase, but she was too fast for him to get out and help her, already crunching her way toward her car by the time he was able to get his own door open.

He watched as she approached the tow truck driver, watched as they engaged in conversation before Betty nodded and stepped away from the car, anxiously waiting for the tow truck to get her vehicle out from its snowy grave.

As he drove off, watching her standing in the snow behind him, becoming more and more a tiny speck in the rearview mirror the further away he drove, he realized he now had the key to continuing their connection.

The thought surprisingly terrified him.

 


	13. Merry Christmas, Riverdale!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for taking this journey with me! I hope you enjoyed this tale and that it inspired you to love a little harder this holiday season. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and I hope you all have a wonderful New Year!!!

**Merry Christmas, Riverdale!**

 

It was just after ten am on Christmas morning when Kevin heard the knock on his front door. He wiped the sleep from his eyes, climbing from the couch where he had passed out the night before, pushing the large quilt away from his stiff body.

He shuffled over to the door, his house shoes scuffling against the carpet and tile of the front entrance. He looked through the peephole, but could barely see through the tiny window, the sleep in his eyes making his sight still slightly blurry. He undid the chain lock and twisted the top lock above the knob, which he turned sharply. Instantly, the cold breeze of Christmas morning invited itself into his apartment.

What he saw standing on his welcome mat, however, was what actually took his breath away.

“Merry Christmas,” Joaquin greeted, his cheeks flushed from the wind and nerves, his smile beaming nearly as bright as the freshly fallen snow in the background. “I know it was presumptious of me to just turn up, especially since we just met. And hopefully you don’t think I’m nuts, showing up like this when you never invited me over or even told me where you lived. It’s just that I found this.”

He pulled a brown wallet from his coat pocket, a familiar scrap of leather Kevin recognized instantly.

“My wallet.”

“You left it at the cookie stand and hurried off before I could return it. That’s how I got your address. I tried calling out to you, but you were too far away to hear me.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Kevin replied, looking from the wallet to Joaquin. He took the leather bound item from his offered hand. “Thank you for returning it.”

“You’re welcome.” Joaquin stood there for a beat, the silence building between them before he piped up again. “There’s something else.”

He reached into the other pocket of his puffy black jacket, his hands enveloped in a pair of dark blue mittens. When he pulled out a small white box and peeled the top off, it was the item inside that held Kevin’s attention.

It was a cookie in the shape of a heart made of chocolate chips with chopped nuts, red frosting lining the edge all around each curve. In the middle, written in a beautiful stretch of cursive, were the words “You.”

“You asked me what I wanted for Christmas, and I told you I didn’t know. I lied. What I really want for Christmas, well, is you. I’ve liked you for a long time, Kevin. I would see you walking around the mall all the time, and I kept wondering when you’d finally come over to my shop. When it turned out to be Christmas Eve, just when I had given up the thought we’d ever speak, I figured maybe it meant that Christmas is the time for miracles. So I thought I’d stop by.”

Kevin could only stare, shell-shocked by Joaquin’s confession and the fact that he was even there to begin with.

“I made the cookie with my own recipe, the one I was telling you about. I don’t know why I thought you might like this better than that cookie cake I sold you, but I guess I had hoped you would at least give it a shot and tell me what you thi—“

Joaquin’s ramblings were cut short by the pressing of Kevin’s lips against his own, their bodies pressed together as the sandy blonde boy took a step inward to be closer, the cookie sandwiched between them. When they parted, the cool air blowing from their out-of-breath mouths, they both smiled.

“You want to come in?” Kevin offered, stepping back to make way through his front door. Joaquin smiled and nodded, handing Kevin the cookie in exchange for passage, and when Kevin closed the door, his face turned away from Joaquin, he felt his cheeks and eyes scrunch up in joy, his mouth spreading wide in the biggest smile he could muster.

His Christmas wish had finally come true.

 

 

 _“Flight 211 to Miami is now boarding._ ”

Cheryl muttered “finally” to herself as she stood from the black airport lounge chair, her body sore from the awkward nap she had taken as she awaited her flight. She may not be waking up Christmas morning on a Florida beach, but she was definitely going to schedule one of those Cabana boy rub-downs as soon as she landed.

The thought brought her back to the memory of Toni, who only hours before she had been making out with in an airport bathroom. Not knowing whether or not they’d see each other again, she relished in remembering how their tongues had felt touching, lips pressed hotly together, the taste of vodka and whiskey burning their mingled breaths. No Cabana boy could ever compare.

Josie reached for the handle of her suitcase, not quite feeling the same sense of excitement she usually felt when traveling to a new destination. She watched from across the room as Chuck walked back toward her, two iced coffees in his hand.

“Something for the trip,” he offered, wanting to talk about anything other than the fact that she was about to board and plane and fly away from him.

“Thank you,” she muttered, taking a grateful sip from her straw. “Look, Chuck – last night was amazing, probably one of the best nights I’ve shared with someone in a long time. I know we barely know each other, and our introduction was quite –“

“Tumultuous?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “I know we didn’t really start on the right footing, but if you’d like, if you’re really interested, I think maybe, well, this is something we could try together. You could come visit me on tour, I could schedule a few trips back to Riverdale.”

“Josie McCoy, the mountain – willing to come to the man to make it work?”

She laughed. “Yes, if I have to. I don’t mind compromising for something that I want. Is this something that you want?”

Chuck licked his bottom lip and nodded. “Yes, Josie. You are definitely something that I want. If you’re down to make it work, I’m down.”

“Alright, Archiekins, you’ve got to speed it up if we’re going to make this flight.” Veronica commanded as she pulled along a giant suitcase, her manicured nails gripping the handle as she briskly clicked her heels over the tiled airport floor toward their gate.

Behind her, Archie was struggling to keep up, hoisting his duffle bag over his shoulder with one hand as he held his guitar case in another. He had to admit the view was nice, but walking in Veronica’s dust didn’t seem to be something either of them were too fond of.

“You’re really going to wear me out in Miami,” he teased. “How the Hell can you walk so fast in those heels?”

“Good practice,” she shot back at him, sending him a wink that had him picking up his paces.

“You’ve got a few more mysteries for me to discover, Ronnie?” He asked when he finally caught up to her, both of them slowly down as they neared the gate.

She handed the clerk their boarding passes. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She replied to Archie cheekily, leaning in to press a hot kiss against his lips. He growled low in response, earning a small squeal back from her puckered mouth, as they continued their descent down the walkway toward the plane door.

As Cheryl settled into her seat, she watched as the other passengers continued to board the plane, anxious to see what kind of person she’d be stuck next to for the duration of the flight. There was a mother with a screaming infant who paused beside her row before continuing on five seats behind her, and Cheryl was thanking her lucky stars for her brush with that particular mess.

She was just about to close her eyes, ready to nap for the remainder of the take-off, when she felt the weight of the seat next to her fill. When she looked over, she felt the butterflies from the night before return, ready to take flight.

“All this talk of Cabana boys had me thinking maybe Tuscany wasn’t in the cards this year. You should really blame yourself, you know. I would never have picked Miami if you hadn’t gone on and on about those damn Cabana boys.”

Cheryl could hardly speak, choosing instead to undo the buckle of her seat and launch herself in Toni’s direction, capturing her companion’s lips in a searing kiss that earned a whoop and a whistle from a random guy a row away.

“Do you really want to go to Miami with me this Christmas?”

“Cheryl, I have a feeling anywhere I go would be special as long as you are there.”

They kissed once more, too caught up in their lipsmack to feel the airplane take flight, the lightness of their bodies dismissed as the feeling of being in love.

 

“Merry Christmas, Fangs!”

“Merry Christmas, Sweet Pea!”

The two men clanked their beers together in cheers before they began to chug from their drinks, wiping away beer foam from their mouths as they set their glasses back down on the bar.

“It’s been one Hell of a year, my friend, but we made it through. Here’s to another twelve months of friendship!”

“Here, here!” Sweet Pea replied drunkenly.

They had both been at it since the Wyrm first opened that morning, choosing to spend their holidays with their bar family.

“Who can you trust if not the people you get drunk and say stupid shit with?” Sweet Pea had declared after the first beer.

“Damn right,” Fangs agreed.

They were three drinks in when the door to the bar opened again.

“Must be another lost soul seeking refuge from the holiday,” Sweet Pea joked, his words nearly cut short when he turned to see the sight that greeted them.

Reggie walked in, two amazingly attractive blonde women attached on either side of him with linked arms, their bodies covered in mink with hardly anything else visible. The trio stepped up to the bar, the shit-eating grin on Reggie’s face only growing when he saw his friends’ reaction.

“Merry Christmas, boys. Next round’s on me!”

Sweet Pea and Fangs looked at each other, their mouths opened wide with shock, before they both broke into giant smiles.

“To Mantle the Magnificent!” They cried, clanking their beers together with the one newly set in front of Reggie, the men joining together in laughter as they drank their way into the new year.

 

 

“Turkey’s almost ready,” Alice called from the kitchen, reaching for the mitts as she pulled open the oven door. Inside was the most delicious smelling bird, its aroma wafting in the kitchen air around her. She pulled out the roasting pan and set it onto the kitchen island, careful not to burn any part of her on the metal.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” FP asked as he stepped into the kitchen. “I don’t cook very often, but I’m sure I can find something easy to do.”

“You could take the rolls off of that cookie sheet and throw them into the basket,” she delegated, pointing down the line of pans toward the end of the kitchen counter.

In the living room just beyond the kitchen doorway, Alice could hear the sounds of her grandchildren as they laughed and ran, their shrieks echoing off the walls. She could only imagine what kind of trouble they were getting into, their aunt most likely terrorizing them in the most fun way.

She was thankful Betty had made it safely a few hours before, looking a little tired but happy all the same. It wasn’t very often she had all of her family together, save for her son Chic who lived in Europe, and even without Hal around it still felt complete.

“What can I do, mom?” Polly asked as she walked in, winded from what Alice assumed was from playing with the children.

Alice gestured to the other dishes on the kitchen island. “You can start carrying those out to the dining table. FP, can you give her a hand?”

Polly smiled at their guest as they carried several warm dishes into the dining room. As FP looked down at the green bean casserole in his hands, he had to hold back the lump in his throat, grateful for a chance to spend the holiday with some semblance of family.

“Okay, time to eat,” Alice called, beckoning the children to join them at the dining table. Once Sam and Sally were settled, their nice festive clothing a bit more disheveled than when they had first been dressed, Alice called for everyone to grab hands so she could lead in a grace.

They had just bowed their heads to pray when the doorbell chimed loudly, echoing through the house.

“I’ll get it,” Betty said as she stood from her seat. She stepped across the soft carpeted floor of the dining room into the tiny foyer, pulling back the knob to the front door.

Outside, standing on the welcome mat with a covered pie tin in his hand, was Jughead.

“Merry Christmas, Betty.”

Though it had only been a few hours since they had seen each other, it had felt like years to Betty. Without saying a word, she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his neck in a long and warm embrace. She closed her eyes at the feeling of his hand on the small of her back, a comforting gesture that felt way too natural to be real.

When she opened her eyes back up, she was greeted by the sight of a small girl standing behind Jughead, her eyes lit up with amusement.

“Oh!” Betty cried, letting go of Jughead and slamming her palm over her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Jughead chuckled. “This is my sister, Jellybean. I hope we’re not imposing. I just… It just isn’t Christmas without the ones you love and, well…”

“I think he loves you,” Jellybean finished for him.

“Thanks, jerk,” he replied, smirking back at his sister. When he looked back at Betty, she could feel her heart nearly burst from her chest.

“I think I’m falling in love with you, Betty. I know that sounds crazy, but –“ His words were cut short by her lips as she launched herself forward and enveloped him once again in an embrace. They stood on the stoop for another few seconds, still kissing as Jellybean giggled behind them.

“I think I’m falling in love with you, too, Jughead.” Betty gestured inside. “Why don’t you two come in, join us? We were just about to start our Christmas dinner.”

“I don’t want to be a nuisance,” Jughead explained as he and Jellybean stepped inside, following Betty into the dining room. “I really just came by to…”

His words drifted off at the sight of his father sitting at the dining table beside who he assumed was Betty’s mother. It had been years since he had seen FP, and though his dad look far less grizzled than the last time he saw him, he wasn’t sure if it was a welcome sight or not.

“Dad?”

Betty’s face erupted in shock, staring back and forth between Jughead and FP.

“FP is your father?” She asked, a bit lost for words.

Jughead turned on his heel, anxious to get out of the room, but was stopped by the strangled sound of his name as FP shoved his chair back and stood, calling out to his son.

“Jughead, please, let me explain. Just a minute of your time.”

“You’ve had a minute, dad. You’ve had twenty-five years.”

“I know, and I know I took every single one of them for granted. But I’m asking you to please give me this one last chance to talk to you, just hear me out please. If you never want to see me again after that, I’ll go.”

“You don’t have to go,” Alice began but FP shook his head.

“It’s okay, Alice. I can see my boy here knows your girl and I’m more than willing to take a step back if I need to. I just want my son to give me a chance to apologize.”

Jughead could feel a comforting hand as it rested on his arm. He looked over at Betty and watched as she gave him an encouraging nod.

“You can do this, Jug, if you want to. I’ll be here the whole time if you need anything.”

He took a moment to consider, recalling all of the moments where his father had let him down, had let Jellybean down. It would be easy to walk away from his dad again, a lot easier than it was the first time now that it had already been done.

But something about the entire holiday had him rethinking his plan. Meeting Betty, falling in love and finding his father at the very same place at the very same time, it all somehow seemed to fit into place for Jughead. Great things were aligning in his heart. He had to give forgiveness a try.

“Okay,” he finally declared. “You get one minute.”

“Thank you,” FP said appreciatively. “Thank you.”

Ten minutes later, Betty watched from the dining room archway as Jughead and FP embraced, the older man patting his son on the back as tears welled down his face. Even from across the hall, Betty could see Jughead had been moved as well, a few drops falling from his own eyes.

She smiled as she watched them, joined by her mother who carried a glass of egg nog in her hands. “This really has been a wonderful Christmas, my dear. Who would have thought fate would bring them together like this?”

Betty looked to her mother, warmth glowing in her eyes. “Miracles have a funny way of showing up when you least expect it.”

Just then, the doorbell rang once more, causing a cacophony of noise as the children erupted into shouts. Before anyone could get to the door, it opened for itself and in walked a man with bright red hair, his tall frame decked out in green and beige fatigues, his hard-soled boots stomping against the ground as he stepped through the door.

“Jason!” Polly cried as she rounded the corner, curious to see who the visitor was. She pushed past Betty and Alice, her arms outstretched wide as she leaped into his awaiting arms, spinning her around in a circle as they hugged and kissed. Polly was crying when the children finally noticed, running forward with shouts of “daddy, daddy,” their little bodies plucked from the ground as he hoisted them both up for an embrace.

“What are you doing home? I thought you couldn’t get away,” Polly stammered on breathlessly.

“It was a last minute call. I hopped on the jet right after we got off the phone yesterday. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Betty and Alice both began to cry, moved by the reunion before them.

From what Jughead could see, all around them, there was warmth and light, love and happiness. Jellybean was sitting at the table, talking excitedly to a young man through the video screen of her phone. FP had stepped up to comfort Alice, joining her with his own glass of egg nog and a smile.

When Jughead came to stand beside Betty, she leaned her head on his shoulder.

“I’m thankful for you, you know,” she muttered to him. “And I’m thankful to Riverdale.”

 

*****

 

Jughead hit “save” on the last bit of his manuscript, smiling at the final words on the Foreword page as they reflected back at him brightly.

_To Riverdale, with love._


End file.
